A Maiden's Heart
by nekrye
Summary: In the midst of war between their bosses, he fell in love with a girl who was meant to kill him. They loved each other but knew that it was never meant to be. This is a story of love and hate, past and present, of two forces trapped in the darkness, but through it all there is always light. Austria/Hungary.
1. Cross of Paths

**It only takes a moment**

**For your eyes to meet and then**

**Your heart knows in a moment**

**You will never be alone again**

* * *

><p>A large, burly man sat at his desk, slouched in his chair, his mind filled with his own conflicting thoughts. It'd been hours and he'd gotten nowhere. The woman sitting across from him was examining a document, eyes drooping a bit in exhaustion. He hadn't meant to keep her up with him but neither of them could help it; this had to be done.<p>

The man, named Ivan Braginski, was no fool when it came to these things and the selection he was trying to make was as difficult as it sounded, but he was the boss for God's sake. He had to have some worth to his name. He couldn't stoop to _their_ levels. Ivan shuffled through his papers a few more times, deciding then re-deciding and so on. This wasn't easy. Perhaps he shouldn't have recruited so many agents.

He hastily scrambled through the papers once more before grouping them together and carefully slipping them into a worn manila folder, keeping his eyes toward it. Finally, his decision had been made. The woman on the other side of the desk looked up from her paperwork and smiled. It was a caring grin that wasn't from ear to ear but could make one tell her emotions. "Have you decided yet who you are going to send, brother?" She spoke politely, as always.

He looked up and smiled at his big sister "Da. I've decided to send Héderváry for this mission. What do you think, Kat?"

Katyusha, with a small bit of doubt, put her hand on her chin and thought for a moment. She _is_ an excellent fighter. Could probably take him down in five seconds. She's got potential but I wonder if she's able to pull through. Has she got what it takes to break him? The guts? Finally, she nodded. "I think that is a wonderful idea, Ivan. She'd be perfect for this mission! When will you be informing her?" Her brother pulled a bottle of vodka out of his coat, unscrewed the cap and took a good, long drink, letting out a long sigh after he swallowed. He tightly screwed the cap back on and placed it on the table.

"As soon as possible, da?" He licked the excess from his lips.

Ivan reached into the right pocket of his large coat, fishing through it. His hand brushed against a rectangular device and he grabbed it, grinning. He pulled it out and pushed a button on it. "Is that your old walkie-talkie?" Katyusha asked. She was surprised that he had kept something that she had gotten for him so long ago. It was small and plastic, fit for a child. He nodded and continued to hold the button until he heard static on the other end.

"It still works!" Once again, he cheered. "Hello?" He waited and waited for an answer until he heard a woman's voice say, '_Алё_?'

"Ah! Natasha? Is that you?"

"Brother? Yes, it is me," she replied. "What do you need?"

"I understand that you've returned this morning from your mission in Boston. Are you here?"

"Yes."

"I need you to tell Héderváry to come to the HQ. She should in the battle room. I can count on you, da?"

"…Yes, brother. I can do that but may I ask what for?"

"You'll know soon. With time, all will be revealed, Natalia." She could imagine that eerie grin slither onto his face from across the line and she shuddered.

"…Okay…G-Goodbye, brother."

"Bye, bye!" And they each took their thumb off of the button of their walkie-talkies, ending the 'call.'

Katyusha shivered as well because his smile grew and grew within seconds. She didn't know what was going through his mind, what was making him smile so madly and she didn't know if she wanted to. He laughed. "Katyusha, would you please wait outside for when Elizabeta will arrive?" he asked.

"Ah! Y-Yes, brother!" She got up from her chair and left the room, shutting the door behind her. His grin changed to a smirk.

"Yes, very soon, indeed."

When Katyusha stepped out of the room, she kept her head lowered. There was an empty feeling in her chest but it was as familiar as the hair on her head or the fair skin on her bones.

She had this feeling whenever she was with Ivan. She'd gained it years ago, on a day when their lives changed, when the three were all alone, when they were suddenly abandoned. That day Ivan changed and Katyusha knew it was her fault. What happened to the cute little boy that I raised? Is it this funny business between him and that Wang fellow? Has it all gone to his head? Could it be that my dear little Ivan had disappeared…forever? God, it's all my fault.

Katyusha was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard footsteps down the hallway and she instinctively made a motion to reach for the pistol that she barely used. She relaxed when she saw that it was her sister in her combat attire and a rifle slung across her back.

Behind her was another woman, wearing the same ensemble only her shirt was sleeveless and she wielded a frying pan, oddly enough, instead of a gun. When the two women approached Katyusha, she threw arms around the first woman. "Hello, Natasha! It's been so long, I missed you!" She was nearly reduced to tears then.

The younger sibling grunted at the sudden hug but hugged back with an equal amount of force as she hadn't seen her sister in weeks. When she released the hold on her sister, Katyusha waved towards the other woman. "Good afternoon, Elizabeta!" The woman smiled and waved back.

"Good afternoon to you, too, Kat! What have I been called in for?"

The Ukrainian woman turned to face the door. "Ivan will tell you everything." She turned the doorknob. "Miss Elizabeta is here now," she called in.

He looked up from his vodka. "Ah, good! Please send her in!" She nodded, turned around and made a gesture towards the Hungarian woman to go inside. Katyusha stepped aside, opening the door entirely and Elizabeta went into her boss's office, Natalia following her until her sister stopped her.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, sister, but this one is for Elizabeta only." The elder sibling stared at her disappointed face and then thought for a moment. "But he _is_ assigning a mission for a few of us in a few days, maybe tomorrow, along with Arthur, Gilbert, Peter…Maybe he'll include you. I think that there are others but I'm not so sure."

Natalia sighed. How ignorant of him to do that. They weren't even very good, especially Peter. What was the point in sending a child who could barely stand his own ground? Hell, he couldn't even wrap his own gauze. What did Ivan have planned?

When Elizabeta stepped into Ivan's office, she was immediately greeted by the jolly Russian man. "Um…h-hello, sir. Natalia said that you wanted to see me." She closed the door behind her to block Katyusha and Natalia's conversation. "Da! Please take a seat!" he offered.

She reluctantly walked over and sat in the chair, facing her boss. They had met over ten years ago and she was still scared of him. He smiled, enjoying her fear of him, and pulled the papers out of the manila folder. "I understand that I haven't put you on a mission for quite some time, da?" She nodded. He handed over a picture and a piece of paper with information on it. "I didn't want to use you until the time was right. And no time could be more right. I am giving you an termination job this time."

Her eyes widened. This was a large step for her. She cleared her throat, looking at the picture.

The man in the picture was very young, perhaps her age, with neat, wavy brown hair with one particular strand sticking up. Strange. His eyes were something she took note of unconsciously: purple eyes that gave off a familiar shine, even through a photo. He sported a pair of Wellington spectacles and had a small beauty mark by his lip. He was smiling a little at the camera. Her mouth opened a bit in astonishment. Her cheeks, she knew, were heating up.

The only word that came to mind was _handsome_. After that she didn't know what to think. There was something familiar about him. His face, that is. Not the name. She felt like she knew him, but she didn't. Perhaps it was the beauty, perhaps she'd seen someone else with one in that exact spot. Who could tell? Elizabeta looked back up at Ivan. "And you want me to…kill him, sir?"

"Da."

"What did he do?"

He took the bottle of vodka off of his desk and took another long drink. "Please read the information sheet, Héderváry." Odd. She placed the photo flat on the table and picked up the piece of paper and read it aloud: "Roderich Edelstein. Nineteen years old." She paused, taking note that he was a year older than her. "Employment…" Her eyes widened when she saw who he worked for. "Wang Dynasty."

"Da. For this reason, you must kill this man. You can do that for me, da?"

"Just because he works for Wang? What did he do?"

"Yao has been keeping him away from the field, training him in secret. He doesn't get out much. Knowing Yao, the boy's probably a maniac by now. Filling his mind with his lies about us, filling his heart with hate, keeping that much away in hiding. He's dangerous." Ivan rubbed his knuckles, sighing. "That's the only photo we have of him. Luckily the police station has a record on all of us."

She took another glance at the picture. This so called 'Roderich' didn't look muscular, or dangerous, for that matter. "I guess I can. He doesn't look like much."

"He does not." Despite the cheerful reply, Ivan's happy smile disappeared, "But you must remember not to underestimate anyone. Do you understand me?"

Elizabeta flinched and nodded. "Y-Yes, sir!"

He smiled once again. "You are to start as soon as possible. Dismissed!" She immediately gathered the papers, got up and ran out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Natalia and Katyusha stopped their chatting and stared at her as she came out, a strange look on her face. "What happened?" Katyusha placed a hand on Elizabeta's shoulder as she pulled herself together.

"Your brother is…scary." Scary didn't seem to be the right word. But then again, what word could describe something like him?

"We know that already…" Natalia sighed, crossing her arms. "So you received a mission, did you? Let's see." She held her hand out.

"Right." Elizabeta handed her friend the paper and photo and she read the paper.

"Hm…'Edelstein'? He doesn't look like much of a threat."

Katyusha peered over her little sister's shoulder and took a good look at the man. "I don't think that he can fight. Look at him. So skinny." The Belarusian woman handed Elizabeta her papers and told her that she needed to rest from her mission and that she was going home. She waved goodbye, the other returning the gesture and she left. Katyusha informed her that she still had paperwork to be done and had to leave also. The Hungarian watched her bound down the hallway in a cheery fashion, as if happy to go off and do paperwork. She exhaled, hands at her hips.

"I guess I'll go home too." She made her way down the hall, taking another look at the man in the photo.

He _is_ handsome_._ Then she read for his location. New York City. I guess it won't take long if I take the subway, she thought.

* * *

><p>A cat with white and brown fur ran through the streets of New York City, trying to keep a piece of clean fabric in his mouth while resisting the urge to breathe through his mouth. He ran as fast as he could from a large, angered man. The piece of cloth was a handkerchief, which apparently belonged to the man. The cat had grabbed it out of his pocket and quickly got away but the man saw him out of the corner of his eye and chased after the cat.<p>

The frightened feline turned a corner into an alleyway and lost the man. _Why would he love a handkerchief that much?_ He let out a brief exhale through his small black nose and walked to a trashcan. He hopped onto a box, placing the handkerchief neatly and carefully on the top and pounced up on it. Letting out a long yawn, he got into sleeping position and slowly closed his eyes when—

"There you are, you little furball!" His eyes shot open to see the fat man sweating and panting with anger in his eyes. He picked the cat up by the skin of his neck and the cat squirmed and scratched at the man's hand with his small paws. "You're gonna get it now, pussycat!" He held the cat high up in the air and was about to slam him down to the ground, the cat shutting his eyes for the impact, until he felt a tap on his shoulder, stopped and stared to the right.

The small animal slowly opened his eyes and looked to the right as well. There stood a young man with brown hair and eyes that strangely matched that of the cat. His eyebrow raised, he asked, "What…are you doing?"

The large bald man raised his eyebrow as well. "Huh? Wha—Get outta here, pipsqueak, before I—"

"You're trying to kill a cat? Am I right?" He seemed calm, eyes half-lidded in mock disinterest but he sounded curious.

"I said get lost!" He threw a punch at the dark haired man but he easily dodged it.

"Right, you are. So I'll just—" He reached out for the cat but the bald man kept it out of his grasp.

"Just who the hell do you think you are!?" he yelled. The shorter man raised an eyebrow.

"Roderich. Roderich Edelstein." He was confused by the question. "What a ridiculous question. Like I don't _know_ who I am. Now could you please let the cat go?" The larger man simply by this point had veins popping out of his forehead and he threw a kick. The young man sighed and jumped over his leg and bald man. In his flight, he managed to steal the cat from the man's meaty fingers. Once he landed, he ran out of the alleyway, the cat under his arm.

He turned the corner and ran down the sidewalk. The man soon came jogging after him. Roderich guessed that that was the fastest he could go; no way would he be caught. He turned corner after corner until he reached an apartment complex. He quickly went inside, putting the small cat into his rather large pocket and messing up his hair so that it was out of its combed state. The ruffian entered the building in a rush, sweating and wheezing.

He looked around the lobby but found no young man with a cat. Grunting, he walked out. Roderich peered around the corner of his hiding spot, his breathing slightly faster and smiled at the cat who looked up at him. He fixed his hair and walked out the door. Once outside, he took the cat into his arms and looked at it.

"That was close, wasn't it?" The cat just shot him a look. "Have you got a home to return to?" The cat gave a look so sad that it made Roderich lose his smile. He thought for a moment. "Well…I suppose there's nothing wrong with having a cat. I guess you're my cat then." He paused. The cat hissed as Roderich rolled him over and peered down at him. "Oh, so you are a boy. Wait, what about Moritz? Good, right? Then, it's settled. Your name is Moritz."

He lowered Moritz to the ground but he hissed and lifted his paws again. Roderich raised an eyebrow but soon understood.

"Oh, I see." He placed Moritz on his right shoulder. "Ja. I'm not much for dirty streets either." He looked around to see if his pursuer was around, pushing his hands into his pockets and walked down the street. He walked to a mechanic's garage and there were people working there, not at all noticing the man walk in. "Good afternoon."

They all turned their heads towards him, smiled and greeted back. "Afternoon!" they all said, in a cluster of replies. There were eight of them. They were all wearing pale tan jumpsuits that were dirtied with oil and bandanas over their heads.

"How was it today?"

One of the mechanics, with long, dark hair tied in a loose ponytail, went back to fixing a car engine. "Very slow today, actually," he said, suddenly petting the big, fluffy dog laying asleep next. "We're about to close up for the day. It is very close to sunset. Not a good thing to be mechanics in an open garage at night."

Moritz sprung up and went over to the dog cautiously, raising a paw at it. The dog jolted awake at the sudden scent of the cat and stared at it before his tail began to wag happily.

Another one of the mechanics, a younger boy bounced up from his place on a table and walked over to the pair of animals. "You got a cat?" The boy was fourteen years old, Korean with an odd curl of hair.

"Yes, he's a stray." Roderich replied.

A girl stopped rubbing a piece of wood with sandpaper and looked towards the Moritz and their dog who were playing.

"A stray? I thought you were all for cleanliness, Roderich." A Filipina, fourteen years old but looked around a year younger, wearing pilot style goggles on her forehead. Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail, much like Yao. "You know. Godliness and all that rubbish."

He walked over to the cat and picked him up, looking at him thoroughly. "Well, yes, Mika, I am. But the cat is also."

Yong Soo, the boy, came along and observed Moritz as well. "He _does_ look like you."

"You're crazy."

"He does, hyung!"

"Hey, you two! Finish up, else no chestnut cake for either of you tonight." An older boy with calmer tone glared at the two younger siblings, through tinted orange goggles.

Mika and Yong Soo stiffened. "You can't be serious! We gotta get back to work!" The two ran back to their wood sanding. Yao tightened a few bolts and finally stood up. He wiped his hands with a rag and walked to Roderich, smiling and patting one of the younger but taller male's broad shoulders.

"How was it? Find a job yet?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"You really must put yourself out there."

"No other job will suit my talents. The bar needs a pianist but I'm under-aged! Too young for a bar, they said. A café would be nice but they all allow smokers by the time I get out. I can't win."

"Oh, my little Roderich. One day you will. But enough of that. I've got some serious news. It seems Ivan has a new plan. We're being followed. All of us." His voice was very low by that point.

"Don't call me that. And how do you know?" Roderich hushed himself also.

"Vash was right there on top of Ivan's office when he was discussing it with his sister…What's her name? Yaki? Whatever. They've sent out people to follow us—_stalk us_. Watch our every move. And then kill us dead, one by one. Starting with you, mister M.V.P."

"Don't call me that either. And who is to be stalking me?" He was very interested in Ivan's new plan.

"He's informed me that a woman named Héderváry has been sent. He didn't get the first name."

"Héderváry? Héder…váry…" It felt right to say the name. "That's a…It's familiar." He walked out of the room, muttering the name over and over. "Come, Moritz." And the cat bound after him, crawling up his pants, arm and onto his shoulder.

"Don't get into trouble, you crazy kraut!"

"Not German!" The Austrian was rather rude about that.

A boy with a bob cut and dark brown eyes, who wore only the lower half of his jumpsuit and had his chest exposed to the cool winter air, wiped the sweat from his forehead, got up and walked towards Yao. "He is very strange, isn't he, Yao?" he asked.

"Yeah, but you know him. He's been that way since he was little." He shook his head, smiling and turned to the others. "Li, Mika, Yong Soo, Mei, Badinton, Linh! We're done for today! Go out back and wash off!" They all cheered, put away their tools quickly with haste and ran out the back door. Yao and Kiku looked at each other before heading outside themselves. Out back, there were two faucets with three-foot tall concrete walls around the draining area.

Yong Soo and Li were dipping their heads under their own faucet and washing all of the oil, sweat, and grease from their faces and hair, whereas Mei, a Taiwanese girl and Linh, a Vietnamese woman were combing through their hair with their fingers. Mika was drying hers with a towel from a clothing line next to the faucet.

She was wearing her jumpsuit the same way that Kiku was but had a tank top on, which was a bad decision she had to admit. She was so sensitive to cold and she always picked out the clothes that as more suitable for warm conditions by habit. That was usually how it was and she'd have to go through the whole day shivering and rubbing her arms through her jumpsuit. Luckily, Linh or Yao or one of her friends gave her their jacket which she refused respectfully but took it anyway before they could recoil.

Mika was definitely the odd one out of the all eight of them. On her forearms was gauze, tightly wrapped and secured, from her wrists to her elbows. She constantly wore sneakers or boots if need be; never wore any gender-specific shoes. The least noticeable thing about her was right eye; it was darker shade than her left for a reason only she and Yao knew.

She noticed that Kiku and Yao sat next to her and looked at the elder with anticipation.

Yao sighed. "We shouldn't speak here. Who knows where those rats may be? We'll talk about it at HQ."

When everyone was washed off, they closed the shop and left as the sun went down. The eight walked along the sidewalk of a slightly busy street and finally stopped at a large building with Chinese characters on it with a translation underneath in caps: WANG DYNASTY. They all stepped in, greeting a beefy security guard that stood at the elevator who nodded in response. Li pushed a button and the chamber elevated, stopping on the fifth floor, which appeared to be a lounge with many people in it.

A blonde boy with glasses stood up after noticing them walk in and exclaimed, "Where have you guys been? We've been waiting like forever!"

"A-Alfred! Calm down!" The scrawny boy next to him, his twin brother held him back by his sleeve. He didn't seem to be noticed.

"Settle down. We're not late, you're just early for once," Yao chuckled.

"Well, excuse me for tryin' ta be good for once!"

"Al, calm down." Mika stepped in. "We're all so cheery you tried to be on time today, aren't we? Yes! Don't create a drama just because you can't check a clock and see that we're at least five minutes early."

In a split second, Alfred's scowl turned into a grin and he patted her head. "Alright, dude. I'll, you know, tone it down." Despite her protests, he pulled her in close, hugging her head with his arm as they entered the meeting room.

"I will now take attendance." Yao said, looking at a piece of paper with a series of names on it. "Angchuan."

"Here!" And he went on with list, calling the names of each of his group member and skipping over Roderich's as if he wasn't supposed to.

"And Zwingli. Vash."

"I am present."

"Hao! Now the meeting can start!" He plopped down in his large roller chair at the head of the table.

Vash's eyebrows went up. "Why isn't Roderich here?" he asked curiously.

The Chinese man turned his head to him. "Don't worry about it. I've already talked to him." Then he turned to the rest of them, scratching the back of his head. _I should really give them assigned seats. They can never stay in the same spot._

To the right of his chair was Li, Mei, Yong Soo, Mika, Linh, Badinton, respectively who was sitting next to Ludwig, a tall fellow with blond hair an blue eyes. He sat next to a hyperactive Italian boy name Feliciano, who smiled whenever he got the chance and clung to him with every step he took, and his older twin brother, Lovino—or his preferred name, Romano—came next, glaring at Ludwig. Laura, a girl from Belgium, decided to sit next to Romano since he was her closest friend, save for her brother, Holland, who sat between her and Kiku.

The young Japanese boy was smiling adoringly at the larger man sleeping in the adjacent seat: Heracles Karpusi. Alfred came next, wondering why he hadn't brought a burger with him and then Matthew. Vash, who was looking straight at him, wondering why nobody sat in the seat next to him, was sitting with his younger sister Lily, along with Toris and Feliks, a duo that could never be seperated.

The seats curved all the way around the table and ended on Roderich's empty seat on the left side of Yao. He shook his head and cleared his throat, getting everyone's attention. "Now then, as said in Zwingli's reports on the Braginski Era, Ivan has sent out someone to assassinate Edelstein. A woman named Héderváry."

A few looked to Vash, who didn't look back. His eyes were cast toward his folded hands, his brows furrowed, his mouth twisted into a troubled frown. He seemed to be thinking of something upsetting.

"This is the only move he's made so far but there was mention of a plan. I'll bet that he's gonna send more of his agents out."

Alfred banged his fists on the table. "Why the hell is he pushing this war on us!"

Yao folded his hands. "I've known Ivan before. Way before this rivalry started. He's got some sort of inferiority complex. Can't stand it if he's not on top. Especially in this blasted war." He brought his folded hands up to his mouth. "I can't stand it! Why does he always start fights? He should know that we only attack if attacked!" He slammed his hands onto the table and stood up. "We won't be discouraged of how much warfare he has! Can't we take them?!"

"Yeah, dude! We'll beat them anytime, anywhere!" Alfred exclaimed.

"We can take anything they throw at us!" Yong Soo shouted with him.

Yao sat back down, slouching in his chair and smiling weakly. "God, I love your enthusiasm. But please settled down for a moment." The two rambunctious teens pouted and obeyed. "I can already see who some of the targets are."

"Will you at least tell us?" Holland was bored with the topic.

"Nope. I'll wait to see if I'm right!" They groaned and shouted at him but he only smiled like he always did.

"Like, that's so totally not far, Yao!" Feliks yelled, his hands on his hips.

"Patience is key, my students!" He recited the proverb with pride. "However, if they strike now, we won't be ready. So, starting tomorrow, we will be training from three in the afternoon to five. Am I clear?" Eventually, they all agreed grudgingly and with hesitation. The Chinese man slumped further into his chair and sighed. That was all he had to say. There was still fifty-five minutes left in the meeting.

* * *

><p>Elizabeta didn't know whether it was her sense of fear or that foreign feeling in pit of her stomach that shook her as she locked the door of her apartment. And as she walked out of the apartment building, the feeling came and went. It was nighttime and all who were wise enough had retreated to their homes. The cold air bit at her cheeks and she shivered mildly into her scarf.<p>

She walked down the street, ear buds plugged into her ears as she made her way to the subway station. She once again thought of the mission she had been assigned. It was probably the tenth time it'd come to her mind and it was starting to get to her. Never before had she been given a mission where she had to kill someone but she actually needed the money and even if she didn't need it, she would have no choice anyway. But she didn't want to kill anybody. How could she pull through?

The current song ended and in the silent interval, she was yanked from her thoughts as she heard—no, _felt_ someone approaching her from behind. She pulled her ear buds out. There was a deep laugh that came soon after. It was a strange laugh that wasn't "hahaha" but more along the lines of "kesese." She recognized it immediately.

Elizabeta whipped around and searched for the owner of the laugh, as it continued.

She reached for the frying pan that hung from the side of her bag and closed her eyes. _I know you're there. _Elizabeta waited until she heard the laugh again to fling the frying pan in the direction of the sound. There was a clang followed by a yelp of pain. She turned as she heard a loud thud and saw the one who had fallen: a man with the whitest hair, holding his face and rolling around under a tree.

"Gilbert! Why are you following me?"

The man took his hands off of his face and looked at her, smirking. "To see where you're goin'," he said.

Elizabeta glared. "Absolutely _none_ of your business."

Gilbert stood up and dusted himself off. "Aw, c'mon. Why're you being so secret-y?"

"_Secretive_, Gilbert."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are you going to tell me or not?"

She rubbed her forehead and sighed. "I can't really tell you, Gilbert." The only people she was able to talk about it with were Natalia and Katyusha. And they were the closest to Ivan. It wasn't a good idea to tell Gilbert about any mission. It never was.

"Why not?"

"I can't tell you that either! I have to go." Elizabeta turned and started to run.

"Wait! Liz!" She stopped. "It's a mission, isn't it?" Gilbert asked, sincerity in his voice. "I-If it is, then…then just be careful, alright?"

She turned her head slightly to look at him. "Idiot, I'm not you."

Gilbert's pale cheeks colored red and avoided eye contact with her, despite the fact that they barely had any in the first place. "I just don't ya to get hurt." Then, he looked up at her as he stood and smiled as she came to him and he handed her the kitchen utensil weapon. "Besides. Once we're married, I'll have to go with you."

She grabbed her frying pan, slipping it into her backpack and rubbed her temples. "Gilbert. For the last time, you're not my type."

"Not yet. You'll adapt."

Gilbert laughed. The Hungarian sighed at the fool. She hugged him. His face became a darker shade of red. His arms began to shake and he lifted them to hug back but dropped the action. Elizabeta pulled away and smiled. "Thanks for being concerned. But I'll be fine." Before he could say 'no problem', she gently slapped his left cheek and went on her way. Gilbert pressed his hand to his face as watched her sprint away.

He raised the hand up and waved. "Bye, Liz!"

Still running, she waved back, smiling. He continued to wave to her until she disappeared. The hand soon found itself to his cheek again. "Wow…" A slap on the cheek was enough to give him butterflies; he wondered what a kiss would do.

"That was weak, non?" A suave, refined voice came from behind. _Suave_ was all Gilbert could describe it as because of the light French accent that traced through it. "Don't you agree, mon ami?"

"Totally sappy, amigo…" A second voice came with a touch of playfulness and cheer with a Spanish tone. Gilbert turned around and saw two men with amused looks on their faces. One was tall with blond hair that barely touched his shoulders and chin stubble that matched. The other was a messy-haired brunette with beautiful tanned skin.

Gilbert put his hands on his hips. "Just what's so sappy about it? Huh? Francis? Antonio?"

"Oh-ho! The way you act around Elizabeta." Francis said.

"Seriously, amigo. That was a good chance to make a move."

"Ah, leave me alone about that. I'll ask her when I'm ready."

"You really shouldn't wait, Gil. She just went on a mission. To a different city."

"Your point?"

"His point, mon ami, is that she might actually find a guy on her own. She is pretty and we all know it. What if someone finds her and she falls in love?"

"Yeah, right. Like that'll happen. She can't get enough of me."

* * *

><p>Elizabeta reached the subway station by 1000 and was on the 1030 train to New York City, along with a cluster of other people. It was an estimated three hours, give or take a few minutes. It didn't seem very long; the only thing wrong with it was that she'd arrive at around 1330, which wasn't really a time to be out at. She only hoped she'd get to a motel before anything could happen.<p>

The car was crowded and she was forced to stand. It would be painful since this was a three-hour trip. She fell asleep standing, leaning her head on the poll.

When the train had finally come to a stop, an old woman shook her awake when almost everyone had filed out and she jumped as she awoke, nearly falling over because of her stiff legs. Thanking the senior citizen she ran out hurriedly into the station, her legs throbbing. And soon she was out on the streets, walking on weak, wobbly limbs in the night, rubbing her eyes tiredly and completely oblivious to the men skulking the streets.

She staggered to the right, but caught herself. Eyelids drooping, shoulders slumped, she could barely tell where she was going.

"'Ey. What's a fine honey like you doin' out so late?" A thick voice with a heavy New York accent chortled behind her. A heavy hand was placed on her shoulder, causing her to pause her walking. "Shouldn't ya be safe in a home? Why don' we head ovuh ta my place?"

The tired girl's brows furrowed and she turned. "Listen, wise guy, who do you think you—" She opened her eyes fully now and looked up at the man's face. "…a-are…?" she squeaked out. He was very tall; probably taller than Ivan. He towered over her and cast a shadow over her. The moon's light created a shine on the thug's shiny dome. He smirked down at Elizabeta.

She felt herself freeze in her spot.

Something in her, something that's been locked away for years finally came out—the tiny craven Elizabeta truly was. Many years before, when Ivan found her broken and bleeding from her head—an amnesiac lost in an entirely new world—who could blame her if the bigger figure that was Ivan had stood towering over her? She remembered it, clear as day. She could still feel how terrified she felt when those soulless eyes were on her, when that cold, rough hand brushed against her cheek in mockery of benevolence. The first thing she ever knew was fear.

Now here was someone larger than Ivan, actually willing to hurt her physically rather than mentally as Ivan had done. She looked him over. Her frying pan would barely make him flinch. Her gun was a bad choice. The cops monitored the Era like they were maniac and if she killed someone who hasn't done a thing (yet, at least) they definitely shut down the whole business. She could wound him. No. He's had a good look at her face.

"I-I don't think…" Elizabeta cursed herself for her stammering.

"C'mon, now. I don' bite…"

He reached for her but her instincts took control of her limbs and she grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm hard. He was more vulnerable than she thought. His upper body swiveled and he yelled. When Elizabeta realized what she'd done, she let go and he glared at her.

"You bitch…!" The Hungarain yelped as he lunged toward her and she dodged and ran as fast as she could, frying pan clanking inside her bag, the thug racing after her.

* * *

><p>Roderich was slowly making his way home, each step a delayed, long stroke to the ground, letting every part of his sole touch the ground—from heel to toe. He was searching the filing cabinet that was his mind. He was going to remember if killed him. He wasn't sure if it was just something he'd heard somewhere or just a feeling that it was familiar. Moritz was cradled in his arms as the night began to grow cold. He stroked the feline's head caringly. "Hm. Héderváry. Héderváry…" The name rang through his head over and over, an echo from his mouth though his mind. He tried to remember but he came out with nothing.<p>

What was so…_interesting_ about that name? Why was he so engrossed with it? He didn't know and it made him feel as if he was lost or missing a piece in his puzzle.

"Damn. What is it about this woman?" He sighed. Moritz soon awakened grudgingly and crawled up Roderich's arm and shoulder and into the hood of his coat. "Oh, why am I fretting over this? There's no real reason. The name is probably trifling to me so I shouldn't be concerned."

Police sirens wailed past him and he shook his head as gunshots were heard. Roderich stretched his arms out, ceasing his stroll.

"In a town full of unruly, duplicitous hoodlums and gangsters, what surnames _don't_ you hear on the late night news? With this society with so much hate and violence what would it matter if one name passed by from the policeman probably chasing after this ruthless woman in league with Ivan? I can't help if it slipped out of half-enunciation, of a slur or out of complete soberness! Of course, in a town like this, who can say which? For us knaves who are too naïve to understand all the honky-tonks and whoring can't distinguish the border between crime and sanity just yet. No. Not yet.

"Because despite all of the skullduggery and deceit, there's always a light somewhere; a tiny ray of sunshine radiating bright from the center of New York City, one that we choose to follow. Even so I continue to—"

"Excuse me!" A woman pushed past him, interrupting his monologue. As she did, he briefly caught a whiff of her scent, and in a flash she was gone.

…Maybe, she had somewhere to be. He raised an eyebrow.

"WATCH IT, PIPSQUEAK!" A large man nearly pushed him into the street as he passed. Roderich stumbled back but quickly regained his balance. Moritz was jolted awake and sank his claws into his neck out of reflex. He bit his lip to keep from screaming and causing a panic and reached behind his head, gripping the skin of the cat's neck. In reply, the claws were removed and sheathed.

"He's chasing her…" Roderich pursed his lips, almost adamant as he tried to keep the promise of keeping out of trouble but his subconscious forced his body to move and run after them. For what sort of gentleman would he be if he left a lady stranded?

* * *

><p><strong>Keep in mind that Elizabeta is pretty young in the beginning of this story: eighteen years old. So it's only right that I characterize her as a tiny bit afraid because she hasn't fully reached that shining manly adult that we all love. Roderich and Gilbert are the same age (19), considering the fact that I wanted these two to be considered equals, since Himaruya's note that Prussia was made to fight the same kinds of battles Austria was. By the way this is the first rewrite so tell me what you think, those of you who've read my initial writing. Please review!<strong>


	2. Slumber

Before Elizabeta knew it, she was cornered in an alleyway. The man came toward her with a lusty smile twisted upon his shit-eating face. She cursed, loudly this time and pressed herself hard against the wall behind her as if to try to slip through it. The man panted from exhaustion. His big, hairy figure cast a shadow that spilled over her and the ground and the wall. It was so dark that he could barely see her. The only hint he had that she was there was her frying pan which gleamed against the moonlight.

"Well, well, well." As he crept forward, he smirked and she trembled. "Nowhere ta run to, baby, nowhere ta hide."

"Stay away!" She reached for her weapon and held it up like it was shield. In a way, it was.

"Whazzat? A skillet? Move that." The brute took the pan easily and tossed it over his shoulder. "Now, now. Where was I? Oh, right." He took hold of her wrist and cackled as she used her other hand to punch at his arm.

"Damn you! Let me go!" Elizabeta squeezed her eyes shut so not to look at the man's disgusting, perverted face. No knife in her pocket, no frying pan on hand—_dammit_.

"C'mon…I know you wan' it," he slurred. So he was drunk. The fool was drunk. She couldn't believe that she was about to overtaken by an intoxicated gangster.

"Let her go." A debonair voice called out loudly but calmly through the brisk air. As the man turned, Elizabeta opened her eyes and there stood a tall figure, though not nearly as tall as her offender, with a cat on his shoulder, hissing with its snout wrinkled in aggression. The man before them glared icily, a look to match his pet's. The rest of his face was unreadable, an outline of darkness over his features.

"What?" The man's grip only tightened on her wrist and she cried out.

"Let her go, I said."

"Butt out, stringbean. This ain't your concern."

"That may be, but I can't just stand by and let you do this. That is no way to treat a lady. She _wants_ you to let go."

The man looked from her to him and after a while complied and stood, towering over him. "Well, just what are you gonna do about it, little man?"

Roderich sighed. "Oh, I wish I knew, _sir_," he spat, the last word very harshly. "What would I do against a big, scary mafia man like you?" As they glowered at each other, Roderich's hand moved, gesturing for Elizabeta. Her startled state had passed by now and she raised an eyebrow at him. He didn't dare flick his eyes toward her for if he did the man would break their intense lock. Soon she got the idea. So she stepped forward cautiously and prayed the man didn't notice.

"But just the same what would you do to me? What am I, an intelligent young man, against a witless wop? Far greater."

She hesitantly reached out for him and took hold of his hand, the angry man oblivious to their connection. Through the dark she could see his other hand reach into his coat pocket and pull out an object, one that looked like a gun. Her eyes widened. The man sneered, fuming. "You crossed the line, little man. You gonna get it."

"Oh?"

Just as the man lifted his fist, Roderich pressed the gun against his chest and pulled the trigger. Elizabeta screamed and she was yanked from the wall and into the arms of this stranger. The thug's scream had drowned out the sound of the shot and he gasped in agony.

"What is wrong with you?! You shot him!"

"Not with a real gun. He's just being a baby."

Before Elizabeta could blink, the man realized he wasn't dead and he pulled a knife out, slashing at an unprepared Roderich's cheek. He hadn't anticipated a knife. The young man growled loudly, the cold air pungent against the fresh wound. Moritz hissed as the offender reached for Roderich again but he moved quickly and turned them around. He pushed Elizabeta forward and yelled for her to run. And she did, frantically, hastily grabbing her pan, not knowing what else to do. She heard two more shots but now that she was hearing them again they didn't sound like actual gunshots. They sounded like BB shots.

She turned her head back for a split second to see the Roderich was following suit with the other man on his tail. He shot once more before pocketing the BB gun and facing forward to see where he was going. There was a small scream from behind them and a loud threat that Roderich would be crippled when he would be through with him. If he could catch him.

Roderich struggled to run faster than Elizabeta to guide her where to go and with luck, was able to. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her as they turned a corner, taking a brief look behind him. The man was far behind. A smirk made its way to his lips as he turned one more corner and into an alley. Once there, Roderich pulled the girl behind a dumpster. His breathing shallow and fast but hushed, his palms and forehead sweating, he held Elizabeta tighter than intended, dead set on keeping her safe.

"He's…not gone. Remain quiet…_please_…" Her breathing wasn't heavier and less shallow. "J-Just trust me…" She drew long gasps of air as she nodded.

Loud, thumping footsteps came, then went, then came again, stopping on a final stomp at the entrance of the alleyway. Roderich covered his mouth. _Now_ he was scared. It wasn't the fact that cheeks had a gash so wide it fit at last four fingers. It wasn't that his possible death had stared him in the face and smirked smugly at him, saying, "You gonna get it now." It was this, the suspense of hiding something someone else wanted. At this point he had to rely on his luck and hope that the idiot didn't find them.

Elizabeta, clinging to the arm that was wrapped tightly around her abdomen, could feel tears coming to her eyes, as if believing they'd been found. But there was a grunt and footsteps began again, growing quieter and quieter as he left.

Relief had swelled in both of them, as well as shock and disappointment, and had burst and flooded their bodies, winning over the latter. Roderich released his breath and finally panted to his heart's content until he regained his breath. _Thank_ _God_. Once he did this, he realized Elizabeta's squirming to get out of his grip. He let go, apologizing frantically. He hadn't noticed how much he'd tightened his grasp on her.

"I'm sorry…I-I…Sorry." He cleared his throat, pulling away from her. "Sorry."

"It's fine." She smiled a bit, rubbing her side as she straightened up and placing her frying pan in her bag. "Thank you. For helping me. I'm sorry for putting you in such a mess." His face was still covered in darkness and she still couldn't see what he looked like.

"It was no trouble. Glad to help. Do you need help getting home or are you satisfied with being followed again by another brute?"

She laughed. Genuinely. It sounded beautiful to Roderich. Did she realize just how beautiful her voice was? "I just arrived in this city—what, ten minutes ago? That was a fine welcome."

"Well, you really shouldn't come here so late at night. The mafia rages in this part." You would think a woman like her would know this. He shuffled a bit to the side and cleared his throat again. "Do you want me to walk you home? I'm only asking to be polite. Of course I have to. To spare you of another horrible thug-involved incident." Then he paused. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot that you just arrived here. Well, it's well past one in the morning and I'm fairly certain that they all lock up at night, ever since a rather…ahem, mafia-related episode occurred a few months back. The nearest hotel, I really doubt you can afford. No offense intended."

"No offense taken."

"The next hotel isn't for another seventeen or so blocks. The motels around these parts are so crap-filled and infested with vermin that you'd leave once you caught a whiff of it just before you got to the door. Also, the walls aren't very stable; in fact, they've been knocked down a few times, courtesy of big men who bring home their…um, _comfort women_." His cheeks flushed. Thank God, she couldn't see his face.

"So what do you suggest I do?" The way he knew the city and the conditions and prices of the hotels and motels intrigued her. He didn't sound like he was from New York.

"W-Well…I guess that you could stay at my home for a night?" At that point, he expected a slap to the face for suggesting something so intimate.

But Elizabeta smiled at him, despite his face being completely covered with the shadow caused by a combination of the street lights and the moon. "That would be nice. Thank you." After she said that she could tell that he was mirroring her smile.

"We should go then. To spare ourselves of another incident that could rob me of all the oxygen in my lungs."

She laughed and he blinked, not realizing that it sounded like a joke. "Let's go then."

As they made their way out of the alleyway, the stinging pain in Roderich's cheek intensified and he gave a slight grunt, holding the side of his face that was bleeding. He shook his head when Elizabeta looked at him. But she saw that grimace, those wrinkles between his brows.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just a scratch from that goon's knife." The light was about to unravel his face, so he covered most of the wound.

"Here. Let me see."

"N-No, it's fi—Ah…" She'd reached over to him and caressed his cheek, moving his hand out of the way. His skin was warm and moist. From blood, she was guessing.

"You certainly aren't as fine as you claim. I can tell you're bleeding. I can treat it but I need to know just how bad it is." It was too dark to see. "Come on. Move this way." She ushered him further out of the alleyway.

The shadows were almost past him and Elizabeta was very eager to see her hero's face. Seconds passed and now the nearly blinding luminosity was upon him, clashing with his pale skin. Elizabeta squinted and blinked as her sight refocused. Once it did her eyes widened and she gasped, pulling her hand away.

"Wh-What? What's wrong?" Roderich looked around, oblivious that she was looking at him. "Is he back?"

Shock was evident but she regained her composure quickly without realizing that her brows had furrowed. He seemed a bit surprised at her and he stared at what seemed to be her anger.

"No, it's fine. Here." She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and attempted to wipe the blood away. It had gradually trickled all the way down to his jawline and it only seemed to smear against his skin. But she got most of it off. Then the handkerchief was pressed against the gash. "Hold it there. I don't have a proper bandage for something that big. Just wait till you get home." Her voice bore a caring tone. Half of it was fake: a quick little plan she'd conceived to get to his better side (thinking that she wasn't already there); but half of it was real, the feelings she felt for the one who'd saved her.

"Oh. Thank you." Roderich then yelped as Moritz, who'd hidden in his coat pocket or safety, pounced out and crawled up his arm to his shoulder. Elizabeta paid no mind to the feline who looked at her curiously. But who could ignore a cute animal…crawling on to your arm and— "O-Oh, um…I guess he likes you. Sorry about him."

"It's fine." She giggled as he meowed, settling himself in her arms, against her bosom for warmth.

"Ah, well. We should get going, else he'll come back to look for a second time. Hopefully he gave up." The thug, he meant.

They started walking, Moritz now asleep in Elizabeta's arms, Roderich pressing the cloth on his wound to shield from the cold. All the while, Elizabeta thought of how incompetent she'd been, how _stupid_. The moment her life is in danger, she forgets her mission. The moment someone comes to her rescue, she forgets everything she's supposed to remember when such a thing happens. What ever happened to 'trust no one but your comrades'? But here she was, walking with her enemy, the man she was supposed to kill, to stay at his home for a night. He probably knew by now she was sent here as an assassin and would smother her in her sleep.

Even so, he didn't seem to be the person she thought he'd be. He expected him to be cruel, manipulative, sly, and, above all, the type to seduce a woman when he had the chance. She expected a rebel, a criminal—someone who was much like Gilbert but worse_—_a_ killer_. This man before her, Roderich Edelstein, was a tad shy but well-spoken, smart but also…naïve. She didn't know if she would be able to trick him.

Elizabeta cleared her throat. "By the way, you said that people shouldn't be out at night."

"Correct."

"Why are you out here?"

"Most won't touch me. The Capo di Tutti Capi, he's my underling." He felt no need to exaggerate the name, expecting that she knew who exactly he meant.

"_Underling_?" He could tell she didn't believe him. Which was strange. Was she expecting that he was a middle-aged man like every other mafia boss? Of course, she _could_. The Capo di Tutti Capi, who shared the title of the don of their part of New York City with his older brother, wasn't often recognized as the boss nor did he take his job as serious as he should. Most people expected him to be a man who appeared to be middle-aged and couldn't grow up.

A dark brow rose questioningly. "What is that supposed to mean? I'm the one who saved you, remember?"

"Well, yeah, you're…not—I mean, how can Giovanni Vargas be your underling?"

"Not Giovanni. His grandson."

Elizabeta looked at the stranger with whom she was making idle conversation with and furrowed her brows to express her confusion. "Why is his grandson the Capo?"

"Oh. Right. I forgot that news of the mafia doesn't travel by paper, or by voice. Because someone always hears. Unfortunately Giovanni has…passed on, and in his will, he bequeathed the title of Capo to his second grandson, the don of these parts to the first."

"Right. Because his son is dead."

"Yes." Elizabeta shivered as a gust blew past her. She rubbed her arms absentmindedly. "Are you cold?" Roderich sounded concerned. "Do you want my coat?"

"N-No, I'm fine." She didn't feel very comfortable.

"You're obviously not. I can hear your teeth chattering." It's true, they were. She hadn't noticed. "Here." He took off the article of clothing and held it out to her.

"I-I…I'm fine. I don't want to burden you."

"You're not. I have two or three layers. It's fine."

"I just—"

"Take the coat." He tried to manage a calm voice and succeeded, fortunately. Nothing bugged him more than when people lied to keep others from worrying. If you need help, ask for it. But Elizabeta was adamant. He sighed and draped it over her shoulders, clicking the top buttons together. "Don't try to keep secrets here. That's the worst thing to do. You're not warm enough. Take the coat. I _have_ layers."

Now her cheeks were red with timidity. "Th-Thank you." And he smiled and it was the most honest-to-God smile she'd ever seen. "Sorry." She was apologizing by instinct.

"Trust me, I'll manage. I guess it's safe to say my Austrian blood makes me accustomed to cold weather."

"So you're Austrian. I was wondering about that accent of yours. Not the standard New Yorker, you know?"

Roderich shrugged. "I'm trying to keep it. Else I'll sound like an American. Yes, I was told I was born in Austria."

"You were told?"

"Well, yes. I don't remember much but my friend told me that I was born in Austria. I can't remember because I hit my head when we were just five years old and lost everything…He'd tell me that I would get upset when people mistook an Austrian for German. He told me this after I woke up and I didn't really _know_ him then but he seemed reliable so I trusted him." He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. "Now that I think about I can remember him now from before I woke up and for some reason, it was only him. Without him, I probably would've died when I hit my head."

He explained things well and he talked a lot. He was talker. "You don't have parents?"

"No." His mood didn't seem to be faltered by the fact. Of course, at one time, he was sad that he never knew who his parents were but he soon grew out of it once he realized how far he'd gotten, how strong he'd become without them. There was no point in crying about it, especially after all the years of being raised by an old Chinese man. He lasted just fine without his actual birth parents, far better than he would have if he had them.

"But what interests me is your accent. I can't quite place it."

She smiled. "I'm Hungarian. And the odd part of this is that I had amnesia too and I had a friend who guided me in the right direction. But…I've always wondered who my parents were. He told me that I did have parents but he never told me what happened to them."

"That _is_ odd." Roderich reached out and Moritz shifted and crawled onto his arm to his shoulder. "By the way, I didn't catch your name."

"Elizabeta." She stopped herself from uttering her last name. She, unlike Ivan, was well aware of someone listening to their conversation from the floor above and it seemed that Ivan hadn't noticed. So much for a vigilant leader.

"Roderich." I know, Elizabeta thought. Of course, I know who _you_ are. He held his hand out. "It's nice to meet you, Elizabeta." Another smile played at his lips but this time was something different in it. She couldn't quite place it and it scared her. She didn't know if it was good or bad.

Hesitantly, she took hold of the hand before her and shook it. Nothing happened and she sighed, cursing her inopportune overreactions.

"Likewise. How's your wound?"

"Better." Roderich pulled the stained cloth away from his face and frowned. "The bleeding stopped but your handkerchief is stained. Sorry."

"It's no problem. Here, let me see." As she took the fabric from him, she gently ran her thumb over the closed wound. He winced and turned his head away quickly in a panic. "It's okay. I'll be gentle." As she examined the scar, her nail grazed it, nearly reopening it and Roderich flinched. "S-Sorry…" Slowly, their eyes met and they locked gazes. She could barely understand Roderich. He held so much emotion in those eyes of his and his smile too. Now she realized that none of these emotions were negative. At least, not at this moment. His eyes were enchanting, almost hypnotizing.

Just as she stared, Roderich stared back, mesmerized. He felt like smiling but didn't. Cheeks flushed, he cleared his throat plainly, turning his head away from hand and avoiding eye contact.

"I-I have bandages at home. We should go."

Elizabeta blinked, her arm recoiling, cheeks also red with embarrassment. "Oh. Right." And they continued to walk, oblivious to the adolescent watching them from the darkness of the alleyway.

* * *

><p>It took no time at all to arrive at their destination. Roderich's home wasn't large but wasn't small either. It was just the perfect size. Home is home, Roderich said humbly as he dug into his pocket for his house key. Potted plants were poised on the doorstep, lively and free from the cold due to warmth emanating from the house. The porch light was on, to fool others into thinking that he was home and awake. Of course, there were times when that didn't stop burglars from breaking in but Roderich had made sure that word had spread that he and the Capo were close. There was no car in the driveway, Elizabeta noticed.<p>

"You don't drive? You seem like someone who would."

"No," he laughed quietly with a bashful tone. "It's dangerous for me to drive. I'd just get lost on the roads, or crash it. I'm better off walking everywhere. Even if I have to rest every three blocks."

He opened the door slowly and quietly, letting Elizabeta follow him inside. Once the door was closed, Roderich scanned the room before sighing. He'd come home to find the television on and loud and the living room in a colorful mess. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering a German curse. Moritz stretched out and jumped off of his shoulder and onto the couch.

Elizabeta looked around. Just what sort of budget did Roderich receive? The interior of his home was rather sophisticated. The front door led into the living room by a small step. Two white leather couches, stained with paint, were placed at a ninety-degree angle with a wooden coffee table standing within the space of the square that the couches created. A flat-screen TV stood atop a DVD case. The living room was adjacent to the kitchen and on the opposite side, a hallway mostly likely to the bedrooms.

A door opened and there was a child peeking out of a room, surprising Elizabeta and nearly scaring her into screaming as she mistook him for something else. His eyes lit up as Roderich, who was walking toward the unkempt living area, came into his sight and he rushed out of the room. He hugged Roderich's leg, causing him to stagger.

"You're home!"

Roderich, caught by surprise, shouted a curse as he stumbled but covered his mouth when the boy's head shot up.

"You—You're supposed to be in bed! It is well past your bedtime." He was obviously trying to cover up that fact that he swore in front of the boy, to make it seem to the boy that he had misheard Roderich. It seemed to work.

"I was waiting for you to come home, brother." He pouted. "It's scary here without you." Roderich sighed and scooped the boy up in his arms, hugging him to his chest. The hug didn't seem to take him by surprise. He wrapped his arms around his brother's neck.

"I missed you too. I guess." He was rather pale with long, snow white hair that reminded her of Gilbert.

Once again, Elizabeta found herself smiling as the brothers embraced. There was little sibling love in the Era, and that was Katyusha, who hugged her younger brother and sister every chance she got. Arthur and his younger brother fought like cats and dogs and Raivis and Eduard held as little contact with each other as possible. This love before her was pure, innocent—no faults.

The hug ended rather quickly and Roderich placed his hands under the boy's arms, facing him toward the stained couches. "Pleasantries aside, what do you have to say about this?"

Swinging his feet gently, he answered, "It's art."

The elder brother raised an eyebrow, holding him again, sighing. "Of course it is. Who do you expect is to clean this 'art'?" There was a shrug and an inaudible murmur. Roderich pinched the bridge of his nose, brows furrowing in slight annoyance. "Dominik…"

Before Dominik could reply again, he looked toward Elizabeta, who was still smiling. Once his eyes were set on her, his pale cheeks grew redder and he hugged Roderich around his neck again, hiding his face. The elder looked down and asked what was wrong. He shook his pale blonde head.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeta." She jumped as she heard his directed at her again. She was sure she was forgotten. "He's very shy to strangers. To women." It was a correction. Most likely a way to say that he was especially shy to females.

"It's fine. I know someone just like that." She approached him, smiling as he snuck a look at her. "Hello, there. I'm Elizabeta. What's your name?"

The big, violet eyes blinked at her as he managed to mumble, "Dominik."

Her smile widened. "Nice to meet you."

Everything went smoothly after that. Dominik fussed over the closed wound on Roderich's cheek and helped him bandage it up. Then Roderich went to cook because all he had done that day was run from gangsters and he needed something in his stomach. Elizabeta admitted she was also hungry and while the food cooked Dominik began to warm up to Elizabeta, once she caught sight of his drawings. As they talked more and more, he grew comfortable with someone who commented positively about his talents. So that was the key. Compliments.

Granted, that would only work on children, who were so easy to trust the person next to them. Though he would probably never fall for an empty compliment, it was hard to tell whether or not he was foolish enough. Roderich was indeed a boy, fresh out of childhood and thrust into a new world as a legal adult. Who knew if his maturity rose with his age?

Once the food was ready Roderich went off to take a shower, stating that he'd eat after.

"Is it just you two here?" Elizabeta took a big bite out of the sausage that she'd impaled with her fork. "No mom? Or dad?"

Dominik nodded to the first question as he ate. "Just us. It's nice."

"I can imagine it is. I live alone, back in Albany."

"That sounds scary."

"It really is." Elizabeta wasn't lying. "You never know if someone's planning to jump in and steal your stuff. You're lucky you have an older brother to protect you." At that Dominik smiled. "By the way, how old are you, Dominik?"

He held up his fingers to show that he was six years old, since his mouth was full with food.

"Six, huh? I have a little friend back home who's seven."

As he swallowed he looked at her with curiosity. "What's his name?"

"Peter. He's so sweet. A little adventurous."

"Oh." That was about all he had to say about the subject. Elizabeta noticed that, unlike Roderich, Dominik bore no accent so she guessed that he wasn't born in Austria, nor did she think he spoke fluent German. Roderich came out of his bedroom a few moments later, rubbing a towel against his head.

"I'm afraid I have only one bed, which I do share with Dominik. I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

"Oh, you don't have to do that. I can sleep on the couch." She was doing it again. She was being nice to him just because she _cared_.

"Please Elizabeta. You are my guest. It's warmer in my room." The living is cold at night and I don't want to freeze, he meant. But Elizabeta didn't get the meaning.

"…Alright." After her hesitant assent, a satisfied Roderich sat down to eat and finished rather quickly, without taking part in the conversation between the other two. Once he finished, he reminded Dominik that it was still so late into the night and that his habit of staying up late wasn't good for someone of his age (or size). So the boy grudgingly went, knowing that he'd sleep in if he didn't go to sleep earlier. Elizabeta followed as Roderich helped set the bed up.

The bedroom was rather messy. What looked like sheet music was scattered on the floor and in an untidy stack on the desk at the far left side of the room next to the dresser. An electric keyboard sat on its metal stand on the other side of the desk. Elizabeta guessed that he was a music person, one who cared more for his ideas than the tidiness of his own workspace. He apologized for his mess as he hastily scrambled to pick up the discarded sheets of paper. "It's been a rather productive week," he said, smiling as folded and placed them on the desk with the others.

"I-I also don't have anything for you to change into that will actually fit."

"Oh! It's alright, I have extra clothing." She pointed to the backpack that she still had on her back.

"Good." He kissed Dominik's forehead and muttered a good night to him, then a good night to Elizabeta after he directed her to the bathroom. Then he clapped his hands twice for the lights to go out and left for the living room with a thick blanket over his shoulder and pillow under his arm.

As Elizabeta laid herself down on the soft bed, she sighed. Dominik was already asleep, soft snoring invading her ears. He must have been tired but acted like he wasn't so Roderich wouldn't send him off sooner. After a while of staring at the ceiling, she turned over on her stomach, smiling as his tiny body inched towards her own, in search of more warmth. She lifted an arm, happily inviting him and he curled up to her side, fidgeting to get comfortable. Soon, with a sigh, he settled. She chuckled.

It was cute, how a so-called brutal killer of the Wang Dynasty took care of a child. It was never cute when Arthur and Peter came along. All they did was bicker and fight. But was that really a good thing that Roderich kept Dominik with him? Either Roderich was really a criminal and his younger brother didn't know, or he wasn't at all and Dominik knew his brother through and through. She hoped it was the latter and also didn't.

She would still be forced to finish her job either way, meaning she had to take away Dominik's only family.


	3. Uncertainty

She was running. Running very fast. Excitement worked its way through her now tiny body and blossomed through the smile on her face. Her short ponytail flew through the wind, flipping left and right, up and down. Her mind filled with images of a young boy, a boy with a dazzling smile. She suddenly remembered the last time she'd seen him: a week ago, in this same forest. How he'd made her smile with his kind compliments and witty jokes. How he'd made her gasp with amazement when he had shown her the most breathtaking sight she'd ever seen: the view from atop a tree at the small village in the Viennese countryside.

Usually Gilbert would go with her but he had family time to attend to. So she went alone with a tiny lie that she'd play with the other school children and she'd only be until sunset. Her parents believed her, of course, because how could they learn to trust her if she didn't make such promises? They'd wait and see if she would fulfill it and then they'd know.

She and the boy were good friends, despite her initial reaction to a stranger in the forests. She'd spotted him as he came through the trees by her house, in search of a friend of his who often brought him food and clothes. She chased him, mistaking him for a thief and she jumped him and beat him with tiny fists. He begged and cried for mercy and when she stopped, she found that he was no criminal.

She let up, apologized and their friendship grew. She went to see him every week.

Eventually her love for him bloomed and she visited him more frequently. He and Gilbert never really got along; in fact they hated each other. Couldn't stand being within five kilometers of one another. But Elizabeta helped them to at least tolerate each other.

She laughed aloud as she jumped over a stream. Soon, she came upon a clearing, a plain of grass that barely reached her knees. Her running ceased and she panted. She saw him a few kilometers away. He sat upon a rock, his back facing her, his bistre head down. He was always reading when she came around.

"Hey! I'm here!"

When he turned, he smiled, eyes full of love. It was as if he knew her voice by heart and recognized it immediately.

His mouth moved. Almost simultaneously, her ears rang and she couldn't hear the wind blow past anymore. Only the ringing. She raised an eyebrow, confused and startled.

"What?" she called before she gasped. She couldn't hear herself. She called out again as the boy stood and turned around, still smiling as if everything was fine. The ground began to crumble beneath her feet and it was only while one of her legs sank that she began to notice. She was now gasping loudly and she cried out for him once again. The world around became dark as she fell deeper, faster.

The boy came to stand near the edge of the abyss she was falling into, still with that smile on his face, as his appearance began to flicker like a broken VHS tape in its player. Between each flicker she could see white hair and blood red eyes. Between each flicker she could his smiling face change to grimace then smiling face and so on. Through her gasps, she called for him again and again.

His mouth moved again and the ringing stopped suddenly and as the ground swallowed her she could hear what he said.

"_Matryoshka_."

* * *

><p>When Elizabeta awoke, sweat rolled down the sides of her forehead. Her chest heaved and her eyes were wide. Reaching up to wipe her forehead, she looked to the window. Moonlight spilled for the open blinds and onto the floor. The sun still had yet to shine. She looked to her left.<p>

The electric alarm clock on the nightstand said 340, with its annoying bright red numbers. She'd only slept about two hours. To her right, Dominik was asleep, breathing softly, facing toward the ceiling. The boy in her dream—or rather, nightmare—shared a few traits with Roderich and it pained her to think so. And it scared her. What is some sort of sign? That Roderich would leave her for dead eventually? Or Gilbert, if that was who the other boy was?

Or was it only a senseless dream?

The constant throbbing of her head irritated her and she clenched her fists tightly. The very fact that Roderich was almost identical to the boy filled her with anguish. He was so _nice_ to her and she couldn't help but like him. She flipped over on her back and stared at the ceiling which was a creamy color last night but now it was an odd faint green. She paid no mind, closing her eyes and giving a lengthy sigh.

Perhaps her mind was just playing tricks on her. Maybe Roderich was just as gullible and kind as he proved to be. Maybe he had no idea what he'd gotten into when he joined Yao…

Or maybe he was everything Ivan described him as. What if this was all an elaborate charade just to lure her in? What if he was just plotting to take her down? She had to remain alert at all times, she decided. After this sleep, of course.

* * *

><p>The next time she woke up, Roderich was up making coffee in the kitchen. He wasn't in his sleeping clothes but in proper clothes.<p>

For 1125, it didn't seem to be very early. The sky was already blue and the sun was already shining brightly in it. She'd slept in. With a smile Roderich offered her some. Elizabeta took it eagerly and watched him drink his own as she did the same. It rolled smoothly down her throat and she smiled and closed her eyes in bliss as the heat reached her stomach. This coffee was obviously different from the cheap she'd always bought. It was like she'd been taken to another world that was filled with a comforting warmth that purged all the worries in her head.

There was an amused chuckle that closed her eyes to open again, though very slowly.

"I take it you've never had Folgers." Roderich had finished his cup already.

She nodded, still smiling. "I've only ever bought some cheap off-brand. And it's been quite a while since I've actually drank the stuff."

"Hm." He scratched the back of his head, yawning. "Is Dominik still asleep?"

"Yeah." She downed another gulp. "He may not have looked tired but he _was_, believe me. Fell asleep before I could get back to the room." Roderich sighed.

"Yeah, well, that's usually how things are with him. He's very good at acting."

"Huh. By the way, I couldn't help but notice that Dominik is…um, a bit off."

"Oh?" He rested his forearm against the counter for support. "How so?

Elizabeta's eyes flicked from him to the coffee pot and she cleared her throat. "He coughed a lot in his sleep. And his breathing is a little fast. Is he sick?" She tried not to make herself seem rude. She was concerned for the boy and his shortness of breath was something unusual. His paleness was explained by his white hair; he was an albino. That couldn't be the reason. She knew because Gilbert never had these problems.

"Ah. Yes. Well, you see, he's been this way since he was a baby. He's anemic. To top it off he is albinistic." She knew it. "I can't tell if his paleness is caused one or the other but whatever. His anemia prevents him from playing with other kids, or running at least. He _is_ only six."

"Does he ever get dizzy?" She'd been required to study things like anemia and albinism by Ivan a long time ago.

"Sometimes. When he's walked too fast or too much. Often times I have to carry him. I admit, though, I do worry for him, for his future." He ran a hand through his dark brown locks and he looked away, resting both arms on the counter now.

She smiled, resting a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up. "Don't worry. I'm sure everything'll work out for him. I have an albino friend myself and an anemic friend too. They turned out fine." That wasn't at all reassuring to Roderich but he pretended like it was and he smiled.

"Thanks." He stood and smoothed his hair. "Well, I should finish getting ready. I have a job to get to. You know, pay the bills, bring bacon home, put food on the table. The good stuff."

Elizabeta gave a tiny laugh as he headed toward the bedroom. Then she sighed, a small smile still gracing her lips. She was doing it again. She couldn't help it; being nice was in her nature. Especially since he was always being so nice in return. Neither of their kindness was false and Elizabeta knew it. She'd figured that out last night.

A few minutes later, Roderich came out of the bedroom with a slim messenger bag, stuffing a few unimportant documents into it. "Um, a few friends are coming over to get me so we can walk to work. You may need to hide because if they see you, they'd just conjure up some weird story of what I did the night before."

At that, she laughed. "Really?

"You must think I'm joking, they'll really do it." A half-smile stretched at his mouth because of her laughing. "At least change into something that makes it seem like you didn't spend the night.

"Alright, alright." She stood and left to change and fix hair, then came back to find that his friends had already arrived and were in the house. She peeked around the corner at them.

There were six of them and one was a little teenage girl. The rest of them were men about Roderich's age. One was rather large and muscular and was shyly holding the hand of a much smaller man whose ditzy smile filled her delight. Next to them was a man who looked almost identical to the airhead cling to the behemoth and he was glaring at them. He looked ready to hit someone. The last man was talking to Roderich and looked like he was related to the girl. The first and last men, along with Roderich seemed a little familiar.

"Why weren't you at the meeting yesterday?" The tall one demanded this, interrupting Roderich's current conversation.

"I was…busy," he replied, rubbing the back of his head.

"Busy with what?"

"Running from unintelligent miscreants and saving lives. Two lives, Ludwig!" Elizabeta covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

"Sure. I'll believe that you ran from some thugs but not about saving lives," said the one related to the girl. "Like you could ever do that."

"I did. One of which is that cat." He pointed to the feline that was sleeping lazily on the couch as he pulled his coat on.

"Ooh! You have a cat now?" The ditzy brunette made his way over and marveled at it.

Ludwig sighed. "Okay, maybe it _is_ possible. Who is the second?"

"Well, haven't you grown interested in what I do on Saturday's? I'm not telling. Shouldn't we get going?"

Ludwig agreed with a bit of haste in remembering why they were there in the first place. "R-Right. Hurry and finish up here. I'll be waiting out front." He headed out with a call to his brunette who soon followed after in a hurry to keep up. His twin followed suit for the reason of keeping them apart.

Roderich turned to the girl and smiled, nodding at her. "Lily. Dominik is still asleep, I'm afraid. He stayed up too late last night. I'm sure he'll wake up soon though." She smiled and nodded. "Well, we're off. I'll be sure to tell Yao that you're tutoring Dominik again."

"Okay." She nodded again and he patted her head. The blond next to him kissed her forehead and they left. Lily set her backpack down on the couch and removed her coat before heading toward the bedroom but Elizabeta was still in the hallway and the younger girl stopped and stared at her, startled. "Wh-Who are you?"

The realization that she was stranger in a foreign house struck Elizabeta hard. She smiled nervously, trying to ease the girl and convince her that she was no threat to her or Dominik.

"Who are you?" The repeat was a tiny bit stronger and fiercer.

"The second life that Roderich saved…?" It was a good try, one that worked. Lily's expression softened, realizing that Roderich exactly had for once done something great like saving a life. Or that saving a life wasn't just his excuse for missing an important meeting.

* * *

><p>"So, spill it," came the curt Italian as they exited the neighborhood. The five men, in their thick coats of leather and polyester, walked at a moderate speed along the sidewalks. Many people, who were either unemployed or had a job the same time they did, were walking. There were joggers, kids out on their winter breaks and every so often an elderly couple out for a stroll. The quintet would nod politely to them in respect with small smiles on their faces. They were taught to do this to prove that they weren't the thugs that ran rampant harassing the senior citizens and insisting that they were useless.<p>

Roderich rolled his shoulders, hands stuffed into his pockets. "Why, whatever do you mean, Lovino?"

"Don't play dumb, you stupid bastard," he spat, glowering, "I mean, that second life you supposedly saved. Or was the cat the only one?" It was a question that was smug and didn't sound like a question.

The others looked at Roderich, also eager to hear.

The Austrian sighed. "There _was_ a second life and it was a person. And I can see that you're all so curious to know more. Well, for your information, it was a woman." Feliciano looked at him with surprise. "And since she had only arrived here last night by her own poor choice, she was chased by a thug—and might I add that it was one of _your_ men, Lovino. Tall, thick, burly. Had a beard."

Lovino grunted after hearing the description. "Right, I know the one. You were saying?"

"He was really looking to assault her, if you get my meaning. And he was drunk. He cornered her in an alleyway and I was lucky I got there in time." He paused to take a brief peek over his shoulder. "…I got her out of there but—see this bandage? He got me with his knife. Anyway, we ran and we lost him, somehow."

"So what happened to her?" asked Ludwig.

He flushed. "Well, I…S-Since it was well past midnight I allowed her to stay a night at my—"

"And there's the unbelievable part!" Vash threw an arm up. "Like you would be so bold."

"Well, there's no need to doubt my ability to ask a woman something when you can't," Roderich said, earning him a hard smack to the back of his head. Sighing, he rubbed the spot. "It's true.

You can't speak two words to Laura without choking up or blushing."

Before Vash could reply to the callous remark, Feliciano laughed and clapped. "Oh! But Roderich, you only have one bed, right? Did she sleep in the same bed with you?"

With a reddened face and shocked expression, Roderich shook his head rather furiously. "No, of course not! I wouldn't just—_invade_ her privacy like that! Honestly, Feliciano. I'm not like you. I gave her the bed and I slept on the couch."

"How…gentlemanly," Ludwig commented.

"Of course." Roderich smoothed his hair. "There has to be at least one gentleman to set an example around here. Else our entire clique would become like Vash."

"Will you shut up with that?! We're here anyway, so drop it."

The group stopped before a tall building that blocked the sun from where they stood. There was a parking lot that surrounded it and there weren't many cars parked in it. The group consisted of young teens and children—too young to drive. A rusty bike rack stood close to the building and a few bicycles leaned against it. Some biked, others walked, few drove. Yao's large, slightly dented van was in his own special spot and Holland's clean car was parked next to it. Alfred's pick-up truck was nowhere to be seen. They were on time, if Holland was here and Alfred wasn't.

They entered the building, each giving a nod to the security guard and took the elevator up to the fifth floor, where they were to meet.

Roderich cleared his throat as the doors closed. "Now tell me. Why are we coming here on a Sunday?"

"Training," Ludwig said, "Vash found that Ivan had sent out someone to assassinate you."

"Oh, that. I didn't think he'd make us starting training again. Or at least me. I thought I was finished with all of that."

"Don't be lazy."

"I'm not lazy. It's just that I hate training. In fact, why did I ever agree to all this?"

"Maybe because you were an amnesiac little boy and was highly attached to everyone who came in contact with you," Vash said bluntly, leaning against the wall. "You trusted Yao too much and you let him talk you into becoming an agent."

"Well, he seemed very persuasive at the time."

Vash scoffed. "You haven't even gone anywhere! You've been training practically your whole life and you've never take down anybody, nor have you taken any missions."

"And whose fault is that? How am I able to snap up such an opportunity when they're always taken by you or Mika or Kiku or someone else who's rowdy for a fight before I can even think of it? Honestly, it's like you don't even think at all, Vash." He crossed his arms as the elevator doors opened. Vash's eye twitched at Roderich's reasoning.

They all stepped out into a waiting room, where some of the others were. The only door in the quaint and quiet waiting room was closed, meaning that Yao was not yet ready to begin. It was just them in the room, the small group of those who always arrive on time, so the others who were always late and/or sleeping had to arrive fast, or else Yao would punish them.

They were greeted but once they caught sight of Roderich, they flocked him with their concerns for him.

"Are you alright?" asked Toris.

"Why weren't you at the meeting?" from Holland.

"What's wrong with you? Don't you know there's a maniac after you?!" yelled Feliks.

Roderich took a step back, a bit alarmed. "I'm fine but what are you all worried about?" They looked at him as if he was crazy. Laura pressed a hand against his arm.

"Yao said that Ivan sent an assassin out for you. We were worried about what happened to you when you were supposed to be in the meeting."

He rolled his eyes. This again. "Look, I get that there's someone after me but that doesn't mean I'm in danger 24/7. I mean, have you seen what his agents are like? Toris got past them just fine before and he didn't even break a sweat."

"But that doesn't mean he hasn't beefed up his agents since then," Toris said. "What was it that you were doing yesterday anyway?"

He sighed. "Since you asked, I was chased twice by two different mobsters and each time, I saved a life."

"Ve! It's true! One's a cat and the other's a—"

"Get this—it was a woman he supposedly saved," Romano interrupted, a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Let her stay a night at his house. Apparently she's there as we speak."

A second passed before Feliks laughed hysterically and Holland gave a dry chuckle. Toris joined in quietly once he caught on to what they were laughing at. Laura looked at them, confused of where the joke was.

Roderich pinched the bridge of his nose irritably. "Can someone please tell me why it is so unbelievable that I would help a woman out by letting her stay in my home? I am telling you truth!"

Feliks wiped a tear from his eye, a smile left over from his laughing. "The unbelievable part about it is that you'd never had to guts to, like, ever do that. The only girls you've ever had contact with are either taken, too young for you, or…Laura." That earned him a flick to the side of his head from the Belgian.

"That doesn't technically mean I'm not able to talk to women. I'm telling you the truth, it's a woman," Roderich groaned, rubbing his temples.

Holland quirked a brow. "Where's your proof?"

"I don't have proof with me now. What do you expect me to have? A pair of her panties? A handkerchief as a reward for saving her?" He crossed his arms. "If you don't take my word about it, call Lily."

"Oh, sure. You'll probably stop me before I can even press the first digit."

Roderich only shrugged and sat himself down in an arm chair. He unbuttoned his coat and exhaled, resting against the back rest. They stared at him and he smiled. "Still don't believe me? Want to bet money on it? I'll show once training is over."

"He's bluffing," Feliks chuckled.

"I assure you, I'm not. How about this? If I can prove it, all who doubted me can pay twenty dollars each. If I _can't_ and there really _isn't_ a woman in my house, I'll pay each of you _double_ what you were to pay me."

A grin came to Holland's face. "Well, then, cut my off a slice of that!"

"Yeah, like, me too!"

Vash agreed too and so did Romano. Roderich's smile widened a bit. He was glad so many of them were money-hungry idiots always looking for a way to gain more. With the small amount of pay Yao gave him, how else would he pay for food for Dominik?

"Very well, gentlemen. How many of you now?" He counted the hands that shot up. "Four then." He shook hands with each of them and the deal was set in stone; no backing out now.

"Are you sure, Holland?" Laura asked, placing a hand on her brother's thick arm. "Roderich seems awfully confident about this."

"'Course I am. He's bluffing, he's lying."

The Austrian only thumped on leg over the other, propping his head up with his hand, elbow on the arm rest. He was relaxed. All that was left to do was go through the day, take them to his house to just have a glimpse at Elizabeta, so not to seem like he went off to brag to his friends that he'd brought a girl home. Then he'd earn eighty dollars easy.

But Yao's door opened quickly and the Chinese man came running out of it, pushing past them to get to the elevator. When they asked what was wrong he answered, "There's trouble at the front door!" And he left, taking the elevator down.

Not a second passed before the group followed on the elevator adjacent to the one that Yao used. Once the doors had opened, they rushed out to find Yao, the other Asians, and the whole team of security guards standing at the main front door.

"What's going on?" Vash asked as he attempted to peek over the shoulders of the tall guards.

Roderich managed to catch a glimpse through the tiny spaces between each muscular figure. His eyes widened a bit as a woman came into view, standing and glaring at them, her defenses up. On her arms were Lily and Dominik trying to pull her out of the building and back home.

"Calm down. We just want to know what you're doing here," Yao said, holding his hands up. She didn't answer and her only movement was her eyes flicking here and there every few seconds. Roderich cleared his throat suddenly and rather loudly, catching everyone's attention. The security guards turned and looked at him before moving and nodding their heads at him in respect as he stepped forward.

Elizabeta looked at him, surprised as everyone else was. "Roderich…"

"Roderich?" Yao asked, confused.

"B-Brother! We tried to stop her!"

"Yeah but she was too strong!" The two seemed a bit frantic as they let go of the woman's arms and scurried over to him.

He stared back at the woman. "What are you doing here?"

The question caught her by surprise and she straightened her back. She looked down and fumbled with her fingers, trying to form the right words. Her cheeks reddened. Of course she wouldn't tell. She hadn't told Lily or Dominik why, nor did she tell the security guards when they'd initially used force. "I…W-Well, I…"

Before she could utter the next word, Roderich smiled rather smugly. "You couldn't have come at a better time."

"I—What?" Elizabeta's puzzlement was obvious, as he offered his hand to her and she took it. He led her to Yao, who was still very confused of Roderich's connection to someone like her.

"Do let up on her," the Austrian said with the same soothing tone he'd used earlier to place his bets. "She's new to town. It was foolish of me to just leave her with Lily and Dominik. It's a good guess that curiosity got the best of her. Am I right?" He looked to her and she nodded, almost automatically. She couldn't tell if he was forging some false explanation for her or if it was an actual guess.

"But Roderich," Yao sighed, skin between his thin brows creasing, "I don't understand. Who is this woman?"

"Oh, how many times must I repeat this story? Long story short, I met her last night and helped her escape the grasps of a drunk gangster who, might I add, is one of Romano's men." His smug smile stayed as he straightened his coat in a jerking fashion. He turned his head just in time to see Holland gape in disbelief. "Well, gentlemen. Pay up."

Grumbling indistinct curses, Holland, Feliks and Romano reached for their wallets and paid their dues, slapping the bills into his waiting palm. Three twenty-dollar bills. That wasn't right. Wasn't it four men who placed bets? "Where is Vash?"

Laura piped up from behind the wall of security guards. "He left for the waitin' room just a second ago! He didn't say anything but I think it was because he saw your friend there."

"That little miserly Scrooge." Roderich pocketed his money, sighing. "No matter. I'll get him later."

"Uh, Roderich, if you're done collecting money, I'd like to know what we're going to do with this," Yao said, draping an arm over his shoulders. "Because I have to dismiss the security team. She's not a threat? I'm very confused."

Roderich took a moment to think of a response. "She's no threat, I'm sure. You can dismiss the guards. However I'm not so sure what to do with her." There wasn't much he could do, considering that she was an adult. He couldn't punish her, he wasn't her guardian. The only thing he wanted to know was how she found the building. Yes, she could've followed him but there was no way she would've with him through the walk, given the time of day it was and the crowd of people.

Unless she knew what the Dynasty building looked like and what it was for exactly, he thought. Realization struck him hard and he was stunned for only a second before a smirk made its way to his face, a curling, devilish smile that was more complacent than anything else. _Interesting._

The smile didn't go unnoticed. Elizabeta was the first to see it. She opened her mouth as if to ask why he was smiling but quickly shut it. What is he thinking? Can't be anything good.

"I may have just found a solution." Roderich's devious smirk was reduced to a neutral, tiny smile. "Just a small request, that she joins us in our activities." He looked toward Yao who was surprised by the suggestion and he almost looked about ready. But something about the way he was looking at him seemed to turn his decision in the opposite direction.

"If you'll watch her, then by all means," the Chinese man replied with his own grin. "Let's give it a try! How about it, everyone?"

Laura was the first to agree, with her wholeheartedness. "Sure! Why not?" Slowly the others followed her, though with slightly less enthusiasm. Elizabeta blinked. She still wasn't following the situation. How would Roderich come up with such a solution?

Yao dismissed the security team and ushered the lot of them into the elevators and out of the lobby. They went up to the fifth floor again and nobody took a glance to Elizabeta. She didn't look at anyone either, only looked at the bright red numbers that indicated what floor they were passing or were on. It reminded her of the ceiling when she'd awoken from her nightmare, how it was a faint green. It was like someone was shining a light at the surface. She looked around.

Roderich held Dominik in his arms and the boy rested his head on his shoulder sleepily, clearly exhausted from the ordeal. His white fringe fell over his brother's shoulder and his tiny hand gripped onto his sleeve. He sighed, whispering something to Roderich. Elizabeta couldn't understand it but it made Roderich chuckle.

She felt sorry for what she did; forcing two children to come after her, waking Dominik up from his much need sleep. Why hadn't she listened? She didn't know what compelled her to go after Roderich. It was as if Ivan's influence had taken over her body and told her to go forth with her mission. Elizabeta has always worried about herself, but her concerns amplified now.

What exactly did they have in store for her?

* * *

><p>"Ah, thank you for coming, Gilbert." Ivan placed his crossword puzzle on his desk and smiled, folding his large hands neatly. He'd finally cleaned himself up and reorganized his office into its original tidy state. Clearly, a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders when he'd sent Elizabeta to New York City. Gilbert stepped in, a hand in his pocket and he kicked the door closed.<p>

"Whatever." He plopped into the chair before Ivan's desk, uninterested ruby eyes set on the Russian boss. "What do you want?"

"All business. I like that!" Ivan's smile failed to diminish as he kicked himself away from his desk and opened his filing cabinet. He thumbed through plentiful folders for Gilbert's folder and once he found it, he laughed and pulled it out, swiveling back to his desk. He placed the folder on the desk.

"Whazzat? My criminal record? Did you call me just to criticize me about whatever disaster you think I did? Because whatever it is I didn't' do it!"

Ivan laughed again. "_Nyet, nyet_, Gilbert! You see, I've grown a bit tired of the Dynasty. Simply put. So I've decided to bring give you a mission."

"What kind?"

"Termination."

Gilbert's eyes widened and he sat up straight, all rebellious intentions and comebacks to Ivan vanishing from his mind. "Man, I already told you—"

"Yes, yes, I know you won't kill anyone innocent. However, you won't be killing as innocent person." The Russian pushed the folder forward. "Take a look for yourself."

The albino hesitated but reached forward to take the folder. He opened it slowly. Inside was a thin stack of papers: data sheets on the person to be killed. He flipped through the stack unhurriedly and found a square Polaroid photo at the bottom of it all. It wasn't very large. Gilbert took it in his hand and flipped it over to see the person. Once he did, his eyes widened.

In the picture was a girl, looking no older than thirteen, Asian, with beautiful long black hair. She was smiling to the camera, which was something that Gilbert found weird. Members of the Dynasty and the Era were required to take an annual photo at their local police station for their criminal records. Usually they didn't smile; it would show that they were troublemakers, comfortable with talking to the cops when their little disasters happened, willing to fight with authority.

There was something about her smile though, that made him want to smile also. A carefree grin full of cheer.

"What the hell are you trying to pull here, Russki?" he spat, words soaked in venom. "This better be some kinda joke."

"Oh, but Gilbert," Ivan said, holding his hands up, as if asking for something to be put in them, "I thought you were ready for this. You've been trained for this mission."

"Are you kidding me? This is what you've been planning?!" Gilbert was beyond furious. A small trace of a vein appeared on his forehead. "You expect me to kill a kid? A little girl?! You _Schwein_!

"Gilbert!" Ivan's yell shocked the albino into easing his angry expression. "Enough of your disrespect! If you would please shut your mouth and listen to me, I will explain to you what she has done." His composure calmed in a split second.

Gilbert released a breath of anger, his tense muscles relaxing. "Alright."

"Good. Her name is Mika Aquino. As you'll notice on the data sheet, she is an infamous killer of nearly a hundred. Ah, yes, you're shocked, I know." Ivan almost smirked at Gilbert's look of speechless shock. "You see, Yao has taken her in young and trained this…little monster to kill ruthlessly and without mercy. It is disgusting. Repulsive!" Ivan sounded disgusted but didn't seem to be selling it.

A short moment passed before Gilbert shook his head. "No."

"What?"

"I don't believe you. No child could ever do that."

"Gilbert."

"I just—it's possible. She'd know what'd be wrong or right."

"Beilschmidt!"

"There's no way! A kid can't kill that many people! A kid can't kill on purpose! A kid would know—"

"Gilbert, calm down!"

The albino was hyperventilating at that point and pressed a hand to his chest and another clutched on the arm of the chair. He didn't talk anymore, only squeezed his eyes shut to keep his frustrated tears in. Memories flooded his mind, his stomach churned uneasily. He cursed himself silently.

"Now Gilbert. I know you want to believe that children are innocent and that the past interferes with that belief but this is one of Yao's underlings we're talking about." Ivan's voice was gentle and comforting—a tone that Gilbert knew was fake. Despite that, he was soothed and his breathing returned to its steady state. "She has killed. She has committed her sins. She doesn't regret them. Which is why you must rid the world of such a monstrosity, so that we can live on, knowing that Yao won't send her to us, to kill us."

Every word was like a tiny sting from a bee, Ivan being that bee, and the more he talked, the more stings Gilbert received, and the more he hated him. The more he wanted to swat him away, do away with him so that he could feel at ease. Unfortunately Ivan was more difficult to get rid of than a bee.

Every word was a lie, something so cleverly hidden behind the tone of his voice that he could believe all of it, if he hadn't known him for so long.

He wanted to decline, slam the folder into his boss's face, and leave laughing his ass off. But he couldn't. When they were assigned a mission, there was no backing out, or else they'd be punished. Some were killed, he heard. Plus, he needed the money. Ivan paid beautifully when they succeeded. It almost made it worth it.

"Fine."

"Excellent." Ivan smiled. "You start immediately. Leave today. Don't tell anyone of your mission. You are dismissed."

Gilbert quickly got up and left, the folder tucked under his arm. As he did, he thought of the girl's smile. His heart dropped. A smile like hers was genuine. Beautiful. Something he was to kill. If Mika Aquino was truly the person Ivan said she was, he didn't know if he could pull through with it. He didn't know if he could in any situation. Not to a child.

Who knows? Maybe I can tough it out, he thought. Maybe she's really a murderer. Maybe I can actually do this.

His attempted comfort to himself was no help. He sighed, ruffling his hair. Maybe he could run away. He hoped Ivan wouldn't find him. He could change his name, dye his hair, get colored contacts—change _everything_ to hide himself from the truth.

No.

Not again.

But who knows? Maybe he could find a way around this mess.

* * *

><p><strong>Alright! First set of updates! Finally. Thanks for hangin' in there, you beautiful beast. Anyway, a few notes on Gilbert: the depiction of Prussia as a full-time violent character is a little bit much but also making him non-violent is just as wrong. I've decided to write him as a slight thug who rolls solo on most occasions, if not accompanied by the other two-thirds of the BTT, and a bit of greaser. He fights for fun, yeah. But he's got that soft spot that I love to think he has. You know, to kids and pets and stuff. He's got a weak heart when he's put in a situation where the Era and children mix. Yeah. He's probably the most fun to write. Aside from Kugelmugel. Please review!<strong>


	4. Ignorance

**A/N: Don't blow up at me for portraying Ivan this way. (No one has yet but I'm stating this now.) I love Ivan and I have my reasons for writing him this way. You'll see, all in good time, my friends.**

* * *

><p>Gilbert released a long breath of air as he entered his apartment. Kicking the door shut with his heel, he tossed the folder carelessly onto the coffee table and dropped himself face-first onto the couch. For a few seconds he remained like that until he turned his head to breath, sighing again. Lazily, he kicked his shoes off. The clock in the kitchen chimed twelve times just then. It was half past noon. Lunchtime. Not hungry, he thought glumly.<p>

He'd skipped breakfast because Ivan had called him in early and of course he was hungry before the meeting with Ivan but all the talk about death and killing made him lose his appetite. In fact, he felt as if he would vomit whatever remnants he had left from the night before. "Shit," he mumbled against the thick, cheap leather.

His eyes slowly meandered over to the coffee table, where the folder lay. He glared at it but couldn't hold it. What good would it do to be angry now? He'd already accepted the mission. Oh, Gilbert. Silly, stupid, naïve Gilbert.

"Just what did ya get yourself into?" The question, like always, went unanswered; it was impossible to answer, anyway. He didn't know how he'd get out of it. "Joinin' that _idiot_ Ivan for Liz's protection! Oh, Gilbert. Liz was right. You _are_ an idiot. Stupid, _illiteral_ idiot, Gilbert! You can't even spell three-syllable words, ya dunce!" No, insulting himself never helped but yelling did and was enough to blow off some steam. "Always at the bottom of the charts! No wonder Liz doesn't love you! You can't even learn Hungarian for 'er!"

This was getting frustrating. Gilbert pulled himself up, muttering another curse and went to his room. "No reason to mope…Let's pack, eh, Gilbird?" A small peep was heard and he grinned as he quickly made his way to a bird cage poised on the nightstand next to his bed. Inside was a small, yellow bird. He opened the cage and held his finger out for the chick to perch on. "Sorry for leaving the blanket off, man. I was in a hurry." The bird gave another peep and he laughed as it fluttered from his finger to his shoulder and nuzzled his cheek affectionately.

"You get it, don'tcha, Gilbird?" Another tiny peep came from the bird. "Yeah. Looks like you're the only one who does." He let the bird hop onto his shoulder.

He grabbed his backpack from atop a big pile of dirty clothes and went over his dresser to pack some clothes. There wasn't that many clean and hole-free shirts and underwear in the drawers so he packed half of them—about three each then. Then he strolled over to his open closet and glanced at all the jackets that were hung up. Through the thick section of leather jackets and hoodies, a single pair of pants hung low. Gilbert pushed back the coats and took the one pair of pants in the closet, smiling. "Two pairs'll do, then, I guess. Now for weapons."

Gilbert was at dresser smaller than the one that held his clothes and pulled the top drawer open gently. Inside were pencils and crayons and liquid paper, which rolled around as he opened it. A case of bullets fell over. "Ah, my Tommy gun bullets. Oh, and my pistol too! I've been wondering where it went."

Once the bullets and small gun were packed in his bag he opened another drawer, which was filled with gun parts They were put into two separate piles at each side of the drawer.. "And my Tommy gun. Should really keep this thing in a bag. I don't wanna mix any of the pieces with my rifle parts Should I bring the stun gun? Mm…nah." He unzipped a second, special compartment in his backpack and dropped every little piece into it, meanwhile taking inventory of what parts were there. There were all there and he grinned, zipping it up. "So that's it for weapons. Now for—"

He stopped as he had closed the second drawer. He looked down at the third and winced. "—the _real_ mission."

Gilbert gently and slowly opened the third drawer to reveal an old newspaper concealed within a plastic cover. He could see it clearly, though a few things were scratched out from the years of being hidden and handled. The entire body of text was in German so he could read it all. The title of the printing company was spelled out in bold, and the text scrawled out in proper serif text. It said:

"_FIVE VILLAGE CHILDREN MISSING FROM THEIR HOMES - October 25, 19-_

_A small village on the Viennese countryside is shaken when five children, four boys and a girl, go missing. It is suggested that they were either kidnapped or lost in the forest. Their parents are devastated and suffering, hoping that on-ay they will be able to find their children once again- Four of the children are around the age of five and the other one is only three years old-We have been informed that two of these children are orphans, one who lives in an orpha-ge and the other seems to hide in the forest alone. It is told from local sources that their names are -respectively. The other two five-year-olds have been confirmed to be Gilbert Beilschmidt and Elizabeta Hedervary, as told by the parents-The youngest child is Beilschmidt's younger brother and his name is-tudy the picture provided by the parents as closely as possible and please inform the parents of these children if you spot them anywhere."_

Above the article and below the title was a picture that made Gilbert frown sadly. It was monochromatic—no color—and in it were the five children that went missing. There, in the middle, was Gilbert, so small and so carefree and happy. Back when happiness came so easily. Nowadays he'd have to make it himself. His smile was so brilliant and looking at it now, Gilbert wondered if he could still give a smile that big. A young Elizabeta was next to him, an arm slung over his shoulders, with a big grin on her dirty face.

He remembered the day well. It was a good sunny day, fit for roughhousing. Oh, how awesome it had been! Everything was perfect; there was a school holiday and the children were free to do whatever and he and Elizabeta had had the mutual idea of running off into the forest to play. They had scurried off so fast that their parents could hardly see them leave.

Yes, it was a perfect day. Especially when the other two came along.

Gilbert's breath hitched slightly as he thought of them. _Those two._

They were next in the picture. A dark-haired boy stood by Elizabeta smiling shyly to the camera. He was cleaner than Elizabeta, in appearance at least—Gilbert couldn't remember his habits concerning his hygiene. His hand was in hers, which was most likely the reason for his red cheeks. On the other side of Gilbert was a blonde boy, no taller than the rest of them, who wasn't smiling at the camera. His eyes were doing the smiling and Gilbert knew that he was always happy when they were all together.

And finally, his eyes found the fifth child, and on came his heartache. The blond boy looked on at the camera without emotion, held tight in Gilbert's affectionate arms. Uttering a tiny grunt of anguish, the albino began to tear up but wiped his eyes as he breathed in shuddery gasps and held the newspaper to his chest, slowly and gingerly, with his tears falling onto the floor in tiny drops.

"Brother. Marcus. Alexander…" Gilbert sighed, trying to gain composure. "I promise. I'll find you guys. And then I'll apologize. Just…J-Just please don't be dead."

* * *

><p>Roderich couldn't help but feel a little shaky now that Elizabeta was here. Once it had slipped from his lips, he instantly regretted the suggestion to bring her along. Who knew what would happen to her now? It was in Yao's hands now, and that's what scared him most—that he didn't know what would happen, that things were no longer in <em>his<em> hands.

Why, why, _why_.

His eyes shifted from Yao to Elizabeta slowly. He could tell that she was nervous and uneasy as well. Yao, on the other hand, was calmer than he'd expected. Arms crossed, he sighed, leaning back in his big leather chair.

Dominik breathed softly as he shifted slightly in Roderich's arms. He hummed quietly in his sleep, his cheek now resting on the elder's shoulder, tiny puffs of thin breath hitting his neck. Roderich smiled inwardly, patting his back gently. The others didn't seem to care what he decided to do with her. Only Laura seemed at least a little interested. Holland, Feliks, and Toris were playing cards loudly; Romano was toying with his phone; Ludwig and Feliciano was silently flirting with on another; and Vash seemed a bit squirelly. Strange.

Finally Yao cleared his throat. "It seems to me that you're very skilled, Miss…I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name."

"E-Elizabeta," she said quickly, immediately wincing at her idiocy.

Roderich could see Vash tense out of the corner of his eye. What was he hiding?

"Right, thank you. Miss Elizabeta, you have a good arm, proven by the way you punched Carlos in the face! You knocked him out, I couldn't believe it!" He grinned ecstatically. "And when those guards tried to hold you back, you didn't even falter! You just stood your ground!" A few of the others looked up. Yao was beyond impressed with her fighting skills, much to her surprise. "You are one dynamite chick!"

"I…am?" Elizabeta asked, extremely hesitant.

"Of course! You've got potential!"

Before Elizabeta could ask "I do?" Roderich cleared his throat, grabbing their attention. "Perhaps instead of praising her on how she knocked one of our best guards unconscious, it would be a good idea to decide what to do with her. Not that I'm rushing. But it seems a few of us are bored and at least one of us has fallen asleep." He smiled reassuringly at Elizabeta when she glanced over to him.

Yao's eyes lit up. "Ah, yes! I forgot. Thank you, Roderich." He looked to Elizabeta. "Now, concerning my decision, and based on what I'd gathered from the prior events, I've decided to keep you."

"_Keep_…?" she squeaked almost inaudibly.

"Precisely. We need someone like you in our…what was it? Organization? Team. Yeah, team. I want you join my team, Miss Elizabeta."

"I—No. No! I can't!" Elizabeta held her hands up. "Do you know what'd happen to—I mean, I don't even what I'm supposed to do here!" She was trying to make it seem like she had no idea what their group was for. Yao seemed to buy that, proven by the tiny widening of his smile.

"Well, it's simple. You see, we—"

The door opened, interrupting Yao in mid-sentence and Mika walked in stretching her arms with Yong Soo following after her. She sighed after straining to hold her breath for so long while stretching. "Ugh. _Jesus!_ What a drag!" Roderich shot her a look, a finger pressed against his lips for silence. However, the gesture was ignored. "Woke me up from my nap." She stretched again and yawned.

Yao smiled. "Ah, Mai! Great timing. I have a new recruit." He gestured toward Elizabeta who only shook her head frantically. "Could you interview her please?"

The girl looked at Elizabeta with a brow raised. She seemed to be slightly confused. "Her? The one who broke through security? Why do you want _her_?"

"Because. Because…Well, you _saw_ what she did!" Yao exclaimed. "She downed Carlos right there, so easily! None of us can do that, not even Heracles or Kiku!" He was on the brink of just recruiting Elizabeta himself but Mika did it best, with the way with words of hers.

Elizabeta gave a pleading look to Mika who eased her expression of confusion to one of slight sympathy. "She doesn't really seem like she wants to join." Then came a look that meant 'I don't!'. Mika smiled. "Tell you what: I'm going to the park with the gang in a few. When I get back, I'll ask a few questions. You guys just carry on with your grown-up training while we do our kid training. Okay?"

Yao squinted. "What are you going to the park for? You're supposed to be training with us as well."

"Cardio," Yong Soo said, smiling.

"I didn't approve of this."

"Linh did," the younger male informed with a small sinister cackle. "You know that if she approved, you have to, as well."

A grumble. "Fine," was the grudging conclusion, sealed with a bitter cross of toned arms.

"Don't say 'fine,'" Mika said with her own carefree grin. "We'd go anyway because Linh said we could."

Before Yao could snap a reply back, Roderich spoke up. "Ah, if you're going to the park, could you bring Dominik with you? I can't hold him all day."

"Oh. Sure." Gingerly, she took the boy out of the older man's arms and shifted him awkwardly with his head on her shoulder.

"He's six, not an infant."

"Shut up, I don't want to drop him. Yong Soo, you hold him." Yong Soo nodded and gingerly took the sleeping boy, holding him in a more comfortable position.

With a short exchange of goodbyes, the two exited the meeting room with Dominik, leaving the young adults to themselves. Mika sighed, scratching her side as they entered the elevator. "What's with him? Always looking for ways to get more people. And Roderich! Bringing that girl here!"

"You know technically, she followed him here," Yong Soo said, pushing the button for the lobby.

"I know that. But you would've figured that he had known that someone was following him!"

"Hm." The boy remained quiet for a moment, lips pursing as he briefly thought Roderich's situation over. "Maybe he _did_."

"Did what?"

"Maybe Roderich-hyung did now that she was following him, but didn't do anything."

"Eh—" She'd opened her mouth for a quick remark, with a finger pointed upward to wave at him chidingly for his ignorance, but she closed it and brought the hand up to massage her chin. She nodded a bit, tapping the side of the finger on his broad shoulder. "Mmm-maybe. Maybe. You're onto something but there're some holes in there."

"Holes?"

"Yeah—" A loud _ding _from walls of the elevator cut her speech short and the doors slid open. "I'll tell you later," Mika said as they walked into the lobby. Waiting at the front desk were Lily and Mei who were conversing quietly to each other. Mei had lowered her voice greatly and cupped her hand next to Lily's ear, whispering something with a naughty quirk of her thin brows. Lily replied with a soft gasp, the fair skin of her cheeks reddening quickly, and she shook her head.

"You're in denial!" Mei laughed, patting the older girl on the shoulder.

"Denial of what?" asked Yong Soo, as they approached.

"Nothing!" cried Lily, covering her red face.

They left with a short exchange of dismissing shrugs and went up the street through now thick crowds of people, occasionally linking hands to stay together when they get only get through one at a time. Once they'd had just about enough of the rude adults shuffling by (and when those adults were far beyond tired of them), they side-tracked to a small residential area with short fences and nearly barren years that were cluttered with trash. They jumped fence over fence in what they commonly considered the shortcut and once the final fence was jumped that were back on a sidewalk, one that right across the street from the public park, infested with laughing children and their parents.

Dominik had awoken by the time they'd arrived and was rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists, yawning in slight complaint. "Where're we?"

"The park," Lily said, smiling as she gently took his hand.

His eyes lit up immediately and they all crossed the street together.

* * *

><p>Gilbert loaded his large duffel bag into the sidecar of his motorcycle, and dropped the bag of dollar-store snacks and drinks into it also, with less care. He took another long inhale of smoke from his cigarette and sighed through his nose which became two small geysers for the translucent gas.<p>

"Have everything, mon ami?" said Francis as he leaned against the vehicle, his own cigarette in his mouth.

"Yeah."

"You sure you can't tell me about your mission?"

"Nah. Confidential, remember?"

"I know, but Ivan doesn't monitor anyone anyway."

Gilbert laughed dryly. "Heh. No way _I'm_ takin' any chances."

Every thought of his mission, the girl and Ivan was pushed to the back of his mind since that morning and, as Gilbert said his falsely cheery goodbyes to Antonio and Francis, his mood did manage a pleasurable lift. Gilbert was glad; those two always pulled through for him. They'd stayed to have a few drinks for him—unplanned, of course—and ended up laughing and enjoying themselves for a few hours longer than Gilbert had expected it would to say goodbye.

But they always drank and laughed for any one of them went off on a mission, in case they didn't come back.

Unfortunately, those hours they spent together were at the wrong times and Antonio had to leave to go to work, and in a rush too. With a hasty Spanish goodbye, he left, coat barely pulled over his shoulders.

"Ready." Gilbert dropped the cigarette, crushed it flat, and sat himself on the fine leather seat. "…Man, have I missed riding on this bike!"

"Oui," Francis agreed with a few nods. "She _is_ a beauty."

"Yeah. Like Liz."

"Like Elizabeta."

Gilbert smiled as she came to his mind and gripped the handles tightly. "Well, I'm off! Tell Antonio I said bye!"

"Will do. Good luck, Gilbert." Francis patted his albino friend's back, grinning. Gilbert revved the engine a few times and pushed off the curb, gradually picking speed, beginning to _putt-putt_ away. Before he could get past the tree in front of his apartment building, Francis called out to him.

"Don't die! Make sure you come back, alright?"

Without missing a beat as his bike came to a full stop, Gilbert grinned widely and gave a thumbs-up. "Of course I'm coming back! You guys are lost without me!"


	5. Insomniac

The early afternoon sun was far too gentle today—not strong enough. It wasn't even warm out, it was _cold_. Cold enough to see your breath manifest briefly in the air and vanish before you. That was what Mika hated most about Northern America. It was too cold for a girl born in tropical conditions.

But the cold at least helped her once a sweat was worked up when outside. Like now, when she kicked the soccer ball to her friends.

"Dominik," she called, gently kicking it with the toe of her shoe. It strayed but he scrambled over just in time to stop it. And as he did, he coughed loudly and had to stop to catch his breath, hunched over with his hands on the knees of his wet, grass-stained pants.

"Are you okay, Dominik? Do you need to take a rest?" Lily quickly came over to him and placed a hand to his back. He shook his head fiercely, hand over his mouth as he tried to prevent the oncoming coughing fit.

"I-I'm fine," Dominik finally said, clearing his throat. "We can continue!" He kicked the ball back to Mika who wedged it between her sole and the ground as it came.

She shook her head. "No, I think we should take a break. I'm feeling a bit winded myself. Don't you, Mei?" Mei, who was tying her hair back, immediately caught on and nodded. "Definitely. You had us running up and down the playing field!"

Dominik gave a small smile, eyes lighting up. "I did?"

"Yeah!" Yong Soo joined in. "Geez, we might be more tired than you!" He plopped down onto the grass with a loud, labored grunt. "Best to take a rest, yeah?" The other teens agreed in a low murmur of _yes's_ and _yeah's_ but Dominik would have nothing of it.

"No! I-I'm fine, see?" The boy began to kick the ball around again. Mika sighed and stretched, going to play with him again. Dominik was never the type to suggest they continue playing; he was more of the type to encourage resting, since he was so frail. But in cases like these where they pitied him, he'd push until they were convinced that he was alright and that his condition hadn't bothered him at all.

The ball was kicked powerfully to Mika and, caught by surprise, she went for it, skidding on her side on the wet grass. She kicked it with her toe, sending it through the air. Before she could register what was happening, it skimmed over Mei's head, forcing a frightened squeal out of her, and slammed into the head of a passerby. One on a motorcycle. His bike tipped and he fell with a loud shout, head hitting the asphalt and that was all Mika saw when she wiped the grass's water from her eyes.

"Mika!" Lily went to help her up but their eyes were set on the biker who'd fallen over.

"Shit, that's my fault, isn't it." Without waiting another moment, she pulled herself to her feet, with Lily's help, and went over to the street where the biker lay. The others followed and they peered over the fallen bike at the man sprawled in the street. He groaned, holding his white-haired scalp in his hands, and pulled himself up with a bit of difficulty with the cheap bike crushing his left leg. The kids jumped back and he stood up and walked onto the curb, eyes squeezed shut in pain.

And the moment he opened his eyes, Mika held her arms out in front of the others, almost in protection.

"What's the big idea," he asked with a slight sneer in his raspy voice. "What hit me?"

"A ball," Mika answered quickly. "We were playing and I kicked it and I'm sorry." Words were coming out in a jumbled mess and she cursed herself for not knowing why. What made him so peculiar to her?

"Well, you should watch where you're kicking! If this street was busy today, I coulda been killed!" he snapped, causing Dominik to hide behind Lily, who hid behind Yong Soo.

"I—Right," Mika said, brows furrowed. "And it was acciden—"

"I-It was my fault," Dominik spoke up, peering around Lily's hip. "I kicked too hard and she slipped trying to get and—and it was an accident!"

When crimson eyes fell on him, his angry expression softened at seeing his light hair and pale skin. Just like him. He rubbed the back of his head, averting half-lidded eyes to the side. "I…Alright. I guess it's fine. Just watch what you're doing, 'kay?"

All but Mika nodded, bewildered by the strange-looking man as he nodded to them and picked his bike up. He murmured a curse at the scratches in the metal and quietly apologized to the bike. "Baby," was the only thing Mika heard. As response she released a tiny chuckle before covering her mouth.

Gilbert whipped his head around at her, glaring. "What?"

"'_Baby'_," she spouted, covering her mouth.

Impulsively, he abandoned his vehicle and went to grip Mika's collar tightly, dragging her up onto the tips of her toes. "Is there a problem with loving my bike?" he growled. Yong Soo stepped forward to push Gilbert away but the older man pushed him before he could get a chance.

"No," Mika said, uncovering her smile. "Just that that bike's not worth being called baby."

"Excuse me?" The madder he got, the higher he lifted her. "What'd you say, you brat?!"

"Let her go!" Yong Soo kicked Gilbert in his side, causing his grip to unclench and Mika landed on her feet. They watched the man cringe and hold his side. "You little _chink_," he managed through gritted teeth. He stepped forward, to Mika, as if to grab her again but Yong Soo stood between them, glowering. "Leave. Now," he muttered, fists gripped at his sides. The threat (to deliver another kick) was set in stone and Gilbert knew he meant it so he backed off.

"Ah," Gilbert grumbled, turning back to his bike. "I don't have time for you arses anyway." Faster than intended, he seated himself and rode off before the traffic could build up.

And when he left, Yong Soo swatted a hand at the back of Mika's head. "You are so contentious," he said, when she looked at him questioningly. "That's not something Roderich wants Dominik to pick up."

"I won't," Dominik piped up. "I don't even like fighting."

"And that's good," Mei said, patting his head, "Maybe you won't have to." She turned to Mika. "_Maybe_ everything with Ivan will be over before he grows into adolescence."

"Yeah, _maybe_," Mika held her arms out and shrugged her shoulders, almost rolling her eyes. "But I doubt Ivan would let this rivalry slide. He's insane, and we're not so he'll drag us into any of his fights. _We_ might go crazy too. Why'd you say that?" Quickly changing the subject, she gave Dominik a quizzical look.

He fiddled with his fingers. "W-Well, it _was_ my fault. I didn't want him to yell at you."

"Getting yelled at is something I'm used to; it's not like some freakish stranger on the street is going to hurt me."

"What makes him freakish," he asked as they headed out of the park. He must have thought that it was because he was albino. That wasn't the case—far from it, in fact.

"That fact that he would call an old, rusty bike like that his 'baby'."

* * *

><p>Everything whispered from Yao to Roderich was a tedious crack in Elizabeta's wall of patience. And the more she waited, the more annoyed she got. The occasional glances that the other gave her made her uncomfortable. Absolutely nothing had been said to her for more than half an hour and the silence was corrosive. She could feel herself wearing away with boredom.<p>

When Roderich finally pulled away from Yao, who left for his office, and sat next to her, she lit up and shot him a multitude questions, none of which he gave a direct answer to.

"No—No, listen: I know you're skeptical about this. So Yao decided to leave it up to you, whether or not you'll join us is _your_ choice." Roderich seemed calmer and more composed than before, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Elizabeta wondered what happened. "What do you think," he asked, a bit anxious.

Good question; what would she do? If she did decide to join, she'd be abandoning her friends, the people she grew up with and cared for. Never mind what Ivan would do to her, she worried what would happen to them once she was on the other side. She couldn't be there to keep Peter from being slapped when his training would start, or be there to help Gilbert study, or…Elizabeta's mind was running wild now. The things that Ivan could do to them didn't have limits.

If she didn't join, she'd be stuck where she is now—indecisive about her completing a mission she agreed to do, something that she recited an oath on. She would still be a coward in her own eye and if she didn't pull through, everyone she loved would see her as one too. She was sure of that. There was no way out.

However. If she were to join them—the people she'd been warned all her life were powerful, vicious, bloodthirsty murderers—there was a slight chance that the rest of them were nice like Roderich and that they'd be able to help end all of this nonsense. Wasn't that the priority of the training? To end the rivalry and declare a winner?

Elizabeta bit her lip, looking at Roderich who was still expecting an answer.

"I—"She exhaled as she tried to find the proper words. "Let me sleep on it."

He stared for a moment, brows almost furrowed in confusion. "Hold on. Let me just put this aside. Exactly where?"

"Where what?"

"Where are you sleeping?"

"What does it matter?"

"What does it _matter_?" His brows rose. "I know your name, you're still here with me after at least seven hours."

"What's your point?"

"I _care_ about you now." He lowered his voice to say that. "Someone like you doesn't get around easy in this place alone."

"Someone like me?" He winced when she rose her voice defiantly. "I'm a woman—"

"Exactly! You are." Unfortunately they were attracting attention but Roderich, now in a frantic mess, felt the need to get his point over. "A strong, independent woman, I'm sure. And you are obviously attractive in every way but that won't make anyone treat you the way a lady should be treated! And you don't know how cruel they can be, they'll tear you apart!"

Elizabeta stared at him wide-eyed, surprised by his outburst.

"The same way he'd intended to last night," was how he finished, voice shaky, staring hard at her.

The suffocating silence that followed shortly after was quickly broken by soft murmurs. "He wasn't lying about that—" "Damn, the whole thing was the truth, then—" "Fuck, who knew Edelstein had the balls—" "We should leave." "We should."

When they filed out, Elizabeta exhaled. "Okay. I get it. I can't defend myself."

"No, clearly you _don't_ get it because that's not what I'm saying." Roderich sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You can, I'm sure—"

"You're sure."

"Yes."

"I _can_, Roderich."

"Well, if you could, I've never seen it!" The moment it was out, Roderich regretted it. The appalled look on her face made him cover his mouth. "Th-That came out wrong! I didn't mean that!"

"_Roderich_." The glare she gave made him shiver.

"N-No, what I meant was that how you handled the situation the previous night was all I know of you. And Elizabeta, you _ran_." Her eyes widened. How did he know, she thought. "You bumped into me last night when you were running from that man." His voice was firmer now, seeing her anger deteriorate. "And based on what I've seen of you, if you could defend yourself, you would have. I _know_ you would have."

Elizabeta remained silent for a brief moment, before leaning back, pouting her bottom lip. He was far smarter than anyone she'd ever seen or heard. She'd been read like a book in a short matter of time.

"Sorry," she finally said quietly, breaking the silence.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"For snapping at you. For burdening you. For just…" She placed her hands on her face, over her eyes and rubbed them, running them down to her chin. "For _everything_. I've known you for less than half a day and I'm already a bother."

Roderich blinked. "You're not. You—You're…anything but." He was picking his words cautiously now, to make sure he didn't say something he didn't mean to again. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have blown up." Because I don't want you getting hurt, he thought. "Listen, putting this argument aside, I…will let you stay at my house. For as long as you need to."

"And the decision?"

"Sleep on it. I'll let Yao know." Roderich, frustration gone now, sighed, running a hand through his hair.

She smiled. "Thank you, Roderich."

"Sure," he muttered, closing his eyes.

Elizabeta would have to get to know at least some of them as soon as possible, so that she'd know whether or not it would be a wise choice to join them. Her head hurt. She'd think about it later that night. About how she'd get herself out this mess. About she'd help end it all. About how Roderich had called her attractive.

* * *

><p>In the midst of the night, Mika still lay asleep, staring at the ceiling. She didn't move and she couldn't because if she did, there'd be a 90% chance she'd jab a limb at Mei. The bed they shared in the small room was nothing more than a compromise; back when Yao was ordering beds for them all, he couldn't afford another bed for Mei. She and Mika had no problem with each other so they agreed to sleep in the same bed. Neither of them minded, considering they were both pleasant, restful sleepers, but with a sudden sleeping disorder there was barely any room to shift positions.<p>

Mika sighed, sitting up. Mei was asleep and snoring softly into her pillow, her long hair a mess of brown splayed over the blankets. Mika rose and carefully get off of the bed. She stepped quietly out of the room and down the hall, floorboards squeaking softly under her weight as she walked. Might as well make some tea, she thought tiredly. She could soft golden light at the end of the hall, meaning that someone was already up and about downstairs.

She glanced at the 2-dollar round clock hanging on the wall next to the bathroom; it read 0211. Two hours past midnight and someone else was awake. _Unusual_, she thought but still walked to the end of the hall and down the wool-carpeted steps, hand sliding down the smooth railing as she went.

When she reached the bottom, Mika looked on into the kitchen and saw Yao sitting up on the counter and sipping a mug of something hot. He wore no shirt, despite the cold seeping through the kitchen window and his hair spilled down his muscular back. Best go back up, she thought, silently turning.

"Who's awake," Yao suddenly called in hushed Chinese.

"Me," she answered in English, sighing and turning around again. Yao smiled warmly, eyes hazy, and Mika suspected it wasn't from sleep—the rhythmic crescendo of the bed creaking in the next room could confirm that.

"Mai, what are you doing out of bed? It's late."

"I know. I've been awake since I lay down."

He seemed a tiny bit panicked but smoothed it over with a layer of subtlety. "But I thought you said you were tired." Yao placed his mug on the counter and came over to her. Mika fought back to urge to grimace; she could smell the sex on him.

"I thought I was. But I don't feel tired but I…also do." Mika averted her gaze.

"Sounds to me that you've another case of insomnia. Like when you were younger."

"No."

"Yes. Only now I don't understand the reason. When you were younger, you were insomniac because of the prior events with your mother." Yao pulled her by the wrist to the kitchen when she tensed at the final word in the sentence. "Traumatic event tend to cause insomnia. In our current case, there aren't any. Unless you're still troubled by the past."

She shook her head, seating herself on the island counter. "No, I'm over it." Yao leaned on the marble surface next to her, elbows supporting him.

"Maybe you're in love."

"Impossible."

"It _is_ possible."

"Unlikely."

Yao smiled. "People like you fall in love all the time. It happens unconsciously, you never know _when_ it happens. It just does."

"There are hundreds of other reasons why I'd have insomnia and I can tell you, it's not that."

"Mei told me about the guy in the park today."

"And?"

"I think you're in love with him."

Mika recoiled, scooting away, brows furrowed in dismay. "You're insane. Why would I—"

"You're blushing."

Her hand shot up to feel her warm, rougedface, almost flushing a darker shade if it weren't for the annoyance welling up within her. "If you'd been there and seen him, you wouldn't be saying that. Why on earth are you pairing me up with a complete stranger?" She turned and ran upstairs and into her room, closing the door a bit too loudly. Mei almost woke up, eyes opening briefly before drifting shut again. Mika slid into bed again and lay down with her back turned to Mei, sighing softly.

Yao was still in post-orgasmic high, she decided. If they'd been talking in any other time in which he was sober, then he'd tell her that her insomnia was possibly caused by a remnant of her childhood trauma. And as for the man in the park, he'd say to stay away from him if he were seen again.

Mika's eyes fluttered shut, silently begging her insomnia to at least allow her two hours of sleep. Luckily, she did fall asleep but unluckily dreamt of the strange biker she'd encountered in the park that day, Gilbert, who, unknowingly to her, suffered the same sleeping disorder that night.


	6. Clandestine

**A/N: I sincerely apologize for the two month-long delays. Hope you haven't given up.**

* * *

><p>Katyusha knew that nothing was right when she was sent into the field. Back when all of this started, she made Ivan promise not to send her out there in a worried, frantic panic for her own life. She knew she couldn't fight, despite being able to do so well if danger came around, and Ivan knew she'd freeze up like a rabbit. So why, she wondered, was she called to his office at such an inopportune time of the day, along with two other men?<p>

The dark-eyed brunette on her right forced a reassuring smile to her when she looked his way. She looked to her left. The blond's thick brows rose a bit and his lips pressed tightly together, stretching into a weary frown, as a sign of uncertainty. They know something's off, she thought, pulling her hands together and fidgeting nervously.

The hall was filled with their footsteps, the tedious clacking of Katyusha's heels and clumping of the men's combat boots wearing at their patience. They didn't talk, for fear that one of them would know what was going to happen and would tell them the dreadful news awaiting.

The brunette cleared his throat, startling the other two. "Um," he began, running a calloused hand through dark curly locks. "I guess there's something important…I-I mean, he wouldn't call his older sister like this—n-not with us! More like by her—I don't know…"

The blond shrugged. Katyusha only toyed with her fingers more.

"I-I suppose it's time I went on a mission, for once," she mumbled. "That's what it is, I'm sure."

"Oh, no, miss, you shouldn't—"

"It's true, though, Antonio!" She was now fumbling with the silver ring around her middle finger. "I haven't done anything around here, and it's only a matter of time before—"

The blond interrupted before Antonio could get the chance: "No, no, miss! Without you, the entire establishment would fall." He placed on hand on her shoulder, somehow easing her. "You are the backbone and Ivan's been joyriding for too long; you should be in charge!" He smiled sympathetically.

She mirrored the grin. "Thank you, Arthur." Then she sighed. "But all of this is unavoidable. This is a mission, I know it."

"Miss, no—"

"Arthur, _please_." She paused, taking a deep breath. "I-I knew—"

"We're here," Antonio interrupted, eyes glued on the somber door. With unease, he reached forward to knock but pulled back an inch, re-clenching his fist gently, biting his bottom lip. Then he knocked. Silence followed for at least three minutes and they waited—before the conclusion was made that he was in some sort of drunken stupor and called them then passed out. Unlikely, but comforting—a false phone call meant no mission. And that they'd be safe.

However, fate had other plans; from inside the office came the gruff voice of the Russian, "Come in." The trio winced. Antonio tuned the knob and opened the door. They stepped in, one by one, slowly and the door was shut. No escape. They formed a line in front of his desk, tallest to shortest.

Before them, Ivan smiled, hands folded on the desk. "Welcome, Carriedo, Kirkland, sis." They each nodded. A soft "hm" was uttered from one of the men's tightly closed mouths. Ivan's smile widened. "I suppose you're wondering why I've called you all here."

Arthur snorted, turning his head away, staring at Antonio's collar. "'s what you always say, git," he murmured curtly.

Ivan heard him but ignored it. "And I can tell you've suspected that it's a mission—it is." They didn't shudder. They had had the feeling. "You three have been selected to pull through with the plan to put the Dynasty out of business." _Put out of business_ wasn't in its literal sense when he said it. When he said it, it meant _kill them all_.

There was a soft growl from Arthur, then an unnerved whimper from Katyusha.

Nevertheless, Ivan continued. "And so it's time I've sent you on an assassination mission. Arthur, you've been on one before, so you should be experienced at this point."

"Once only," the Brit snapped. "That doesn't make me experienced."

He was ignored. "This will be the first for you, Antonio and Katyusha. You've been trained well, I trusted you'll succeed." They didn't move. Neither one of them had the guts to actually _kill_ someone. "Now then, please step up and choose from these three folders." He gestured to the folders that were laid out before him on his desk. "Come on, now. Don't be shy."

It was Arthur who stepped up first and when he chose the middle folder, he made to open it and peek inside but Ivan stopped him. "Ah, ah, ah." He waved a thick finger at him. "Wait till the others have theirs too, please." Arthur sighed in reply and returned to his spot between his comrades. Antonio went next and then Katyusha, who hesitated but was encouraged by Ivan to grab the final folder.

"Now. You may open them."

They did so.

"Alfred Frazier Jones." The name rolled like honey off of Arthur's tongue. It had a good chime to it, but also a very unbecoming feel. He frowned. The photo of the man was a new one, glossy and dated as it was taken early the previous year. He smiled at Arthur and Arthur didn't know whether to smile back or scowl with annoyance.

"Lovino 'Romano' Vargas…" Antonio murmured quietly, running a thumb over the photograph that was clipped to the data sheet. He said nothing more, only stared at that photo, at the man glaring at the camera irritably, sneering. Katyusha hadn't said a word, didn't even open her folder. Ivan did not mind; she'd have to sooner or later.

"Now, then, I hope you understand that these men have sinned. They must be terminated." When Antonio made to protest, Ivan held his hand up. "There's no turning back for them. Don't you see, we're purging the world of more evil!"

Liar, Katyusha thought, gripping the folder to her bosom. Those men are as innocent as children, aren't they? "And you'll notice," Ivan started again; "…whoever has Jones, that his brother is Williams. Who has Williams?" Arthur and Antonio looked to Katyusha, who slowly looked up. Then she opened her folder and looked at the name. Matthew Carter Williams.

Oh, goodness.

No, she began to think but Ivan was talking. "This serves as an advantage to us. Katyusha, you and whoever has Jones can work together and—"

"But Ivan! _They_ can team up on _us_, as well! Her protest was dismissed with a laugh and a wave of the hand. She had half a mind to run out of the room and not return until Ivan apologized for being so rude. She _was_ his older sister, why shouldn't she?

"Katyusha, they may be strong but we're stronger," he laughed. She stayed in place, brows knitting together. "Now then, you know what you have to do." He quickly received a 'yessir' from the trio. "You're dismissed. Leave as soon as possible."

"Oh, Arthur. May I have a word," Ivan called after him when he was about to exit. The blond turned back and sighed, closing the door. "I believe Peter is of age now."

"He's seven."

"Yes. That was the age Natalia started working."

"What are you insinuating?"

"I have a special job for Peter."

Arthur glared. "Peter is too young to work."

"Yes, but his client is younger than him."

"Client?! You want my brother to kill another child?!" Arthur made to run out of the office, before he could hear anymore but Ivan stopped him.

Ivan laughed, softly but menacingly. "No, no! I'm not that heartless! I simply wish for him to spy on the boy, catch his weaknesses and strengths. No violence, just harmless spying, Arthur." Arthur frowned. He didn't like it. His brother wasn't the smartest of kids but was eager to work and help with what he thought was akin to a police station or detective service. Tight-lipped, Arthur glared at Ivan icily, before gradually easing himself.

"Fine," he said firmly. "But you have to swear that it's nothing more than spying. He's a child, and I don't want him to be exposed to these things."

Ivan, silent and surprised at first, slowly complied. "I swear." He held both hands up to show he meant it. "Nothing more than spying."

Arthur crossed his arms. "Alright. Give me the folder so I can leave." Ivan gave a look. "Sir," Arthur added, growling. Smiling, the larger man pulled the folder out of the drawer under his desk and told him that the boy was the sibling of a client that Elizabeta was given. Arthur nodded, took it from him and quickly left the room, the folders tightly held in both arms.

Ivan smiled with satisfaction. Little did he know that beyond the wall adjacent to his office was a duo of tanned Asians who'd knocked out every employee in the room with an empty magazine. They'd listened to the entire conversation.

* * *

><p>In the rough course of three days, Elizabeta slept on it and thought over her decision rather thoroughly. It was a tough choice. She took an extra day to decide, and Yao let her, seeing as she was a bit flustered by the whole thing. Roderich was a big help. They'd spend hours talking it over, and it was hours of endless comforting and reassuring that made Elizabeta blush like a school girl. And in their talks, he'd tell her how nice they all were, despite being reclusive to "outsiders," as they called them. Elizabeta loved the sincerity in his voice when he spoke to her, so much that she knew he was telling the truth.<p>

And he was, and was glad that she knew it. After hours of talking (and unconscious getting-know-each-other), Elizabeta made up her mind and Roderich was elated. It was then that he revealed that they all knew that she was a part of Ivan's cruel organization.

"How could you not tell you knew?!"

"You didn't ask."

"Yeah, but that would've been useful when I made a fool of myself in front of them. Those security guards, Roderich!" She threw her arms up, nearly spilling her cup of hot milk.

Roderich held his hands up defensively. "I know, and I'm sorry. But I couldn't say anything."

"You said not to keep secrets."

A lopsided grin and a raised brow teased her. "In my defense, I'd only met you the night before."

"How on earth did you all know?"

"You're not the only ones with records and data." He leaned back in his chair, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "We have the headshots of every one of you with your names in bold under them. And you—," he paused, chuckled and smiled at her, "—you were one of the prettiest villains I've ever seen." That was intended to be a thought. The cat was out of the bag and now there was no way for Roderich to pull it back in.

"So you think I'm pretty." She seemed to have all attention on the compliment and not that he called her a villain.

"Well, I don't think it, I'm pretty sure it's a _fact_." Stop it, stop it, _stop it now_, he screamed at himself. Don't jump into this. She needs your respect! Don't be like _Holland_!

Elizabeta was smiling, blushing, with a hand on her cheek. "Wow. Thank you, Roderich." She was flattered, which was good. He mumbled a "you're welcome," and cleared his throat, pale skin reddening quickly.

With only a few more coaxing from Dominik, Laura and Lily, all of which she'd become close to in a matter of days, and the tiniest bit more consulting with Roderich, she'd decided to join them, but in secret. It was the one thing she kept completely clandestine from Ivan or anyone else back in Albany—that is, the only physical thing. Everything else she hid was within the walls of her mind.

Yao was ecstatic. He'd cheered and it was loud enough to jolt Mika awake and complain to him about it. By then, everyone (but Vash) at least made an effort to make friends with her; and despite some being attempts, everyone had succeeded. They were all so different from her friends back home. Roderich noted: she's a friendly person. Like a person should be; she's _perfect_. Everyone loves her.

After her decision, she was sent to visit Mika, in a special office, designated for the young girl. The room was really something. Posters of movies and musical artists riddled the walls; there was a velvet couch by the right wall; there were a few radios, a computer with a touch screen monitor on her desk before her, and a mini-fridge. It was almost as if she lived there. When she'd entered, she was greeted with tired eyes and weary smile.

"Afternoon," she'd mustered through an inopportune yawn.

"Good afternoon."

There was a plethora of questions that Elizabeta was required to answer, one of which involved her childhood. She's vaguely summarized the years of training, rewards, spying missions and rejoicing. "I'd always had a fun time," she'd said, smiling at her own ruminations. "But there was always something darker somewhere. There were a lot of secrets. Everyone kept something from each other and...and I didn't like it. This mission was a sort of vacation from all of it. I'm a little grateful."

"That's pretty alright. I trust Roderich told that we don't kept secrets here. It's an unconscious law." That made Elizabeta smile and Mika mirrored it before jotting down a few notes. No secrets meant trust, a lot of trust.

"What're you writing?"

"Notes about you." Mika flipped the pencil through her fingers in contemplation. "So we have a _positive_ record on you—'cause you're on our side." She paused, ceasing her pencil, and looked up, brows almost knitting together. "Aren't you?"

It dawned on Elizabeta that Mika was still just a child, like Dominik and Peter, and depended on the trust and loyalty of her allies. She knew it, because she was, too. She quickly nodded, "Of course! I mean, you're all just so—so nice to me, a-and don't keep secrets so how can I not trust you?" Mika's smiled returned, this time cheekier, happier. And Elizabeta smiled too. From there, Elizabeta, warming up to her, revealed everything to her—her confusion of her past, her habits, pet peeves, and most reluctantly, _her feelings toward Roderich_—and Mika listened with interest.

"Don't tell, _please_." Elizabeta clasped her hands together pleadingly. "He's my friend and—and I don't want to ruin anything. He's a nice, talented man and I don't think he'd like a girl like me tying him down."

Mika nodded, twirling her pencil. "Secret's safe with me." She crossed her heart before adding, "These kinds of secrets are meant to be kept. Romance is another thing, you don't see much of it because they stay quiet. I should know." Elizabeta's eyes suddenly sparkled and Mika flushed crimson. "I—not me, I mean, just saying, Yao's practically engaged to Linh and—and that's _all_. No one else has a committed relationship with anyone." Then she repeated that her secret was safe, to put it simply.

Mika gladly admitted her, undeniably forming a close bond with her. Everyone loved her, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't love them back.

But the three days of happiness and intimacy came to an end rather abruptly when her phone rang obnoxiously. She was almost asleep when it rang but it only jolted her awake. She grunted, muttering a curse. Roderich shifted, mumbling in his slumber. Every few nights, he'd taken to leaving the couch in the middle of the night and joining them, though as far as Elizabeta as he could respectfully be. Only because Dominik missed him.

Elizabeta felt around her bag on the floor, eyes lazily drooping and rising, and once she found it, she fished around for the annoying thing from which the chirping emanated. "Yes," she whispered, failing to check the caller ID. "What is it, Gilbert? I'm asleep."

"Héderváry."

Her eyes fully opened and she nearly fell off the bed.

"I-Iva—I mean, sir!" She immediately hushed herself, eyeing Roderich whose back was turned to her. She carefully pulled herself away from the bed, crawling over to the wall where her keyboard stood. She hadn't expected Ivan to call her. "T-To what do I owe—"

"_Save_ it." Elizabeta gulped at his tone. He didn't sound sober. It _was_ late. Something must've happened, she thought. Something to upset him. "I'm not in the best of moods." I can tell, she mouthed, wanting to say it aloud. "I'm just calling for a progress report. How far are you to killing that boy off?"

She swallowed uneasily. How would she explain this? She hadn't counted on him actually calling her for a progress report. He usually did that sort of thing one week after sending them out. Why now? And she definitely hadn't thought about _what_ she'd tell him. Keep everything a secret from _him_, was all she thought.

"I…" She cleared her throat, like Roderich would whenever he delivered a sweet compliment. "I-I...have gained his trust," she said slowly, one hand nervously combing through her hair.

"Right. Go on."

"A-And I'm in his home, he trusts me."

"Mm-hm, I'm listening." He was already intrigued.

The words were bunching up in her throat and she bit her lip. "And I'll get him when the time—t-time is right…" There was silence. He was comprehending it all. Elizabeta was quiet as well, waiting for his reaction. All she heard was Roderich's sleepy sighs and shuffling in bed.

"A brilliant idea," Ivan finally piped up, causing her to sigh in relief. "Well done, Héderváry!"

"I-I—_Yes, sir!_" She hoped he'd end the call there, but he didn't. After a moment, which she guessed was his time to gulp down another glass of vodka, he spoke again.

"Oh. And Héderváry?"

"Yes, sir?"

His tone grew serious, darker, deeper. "Do _not_ get attached to that boy. You are dedicated to me, not him, or Yao, or anyone else in that ragamuffin daycare he runs." Elizabeta swallowed thickly. Did he know? Oh, God, he does know, doesn't he? What'll I do? What'll I— "Follow my orders alone and you'll be fine."

Elizabeta had to take a deep breath once he'd finished talking. "Yes." He hung up after that and she sighed. The hand holding her phone dropped as she gazed down at her lap. When had it start to go downhill? When had she stopped being an obedient crony and start taking risks? It was Roderich; he was the one who'd risked himself to save her from the thug that late night. He took risks, and she followed suit. He'd taken on risk to save her, and she'd taken the risk of being killed by Ivan's hands to save them all, the people who'd proven themselves trustworthy.

When had she let her guard down?

They didn't keep secrets, they said it themselves, but what if that was a lie? A ploy just to lure her in to take advantage of her?

No. _No_, not Roderich. Roderich was true, he was good. He'd _saved_ her. He was nice to her. And if he trusted them, she should too. Shouldn't she?

"Shouldn't I…?" she whispered. Her fingers curled tighter around her phone. Ivan was in the way of everything. She would never find peace, or lead a normal life. No, she had to be allured by everything that was promised to her. The food, the shelter, the training—all promises were fulfilled, but never love. She had friendship, but not love. Yao gave love, she could tell, to each and every one of his underlings. Here she would have the love she craved.

But if she left, she'd leave her friends behind. Alone with Ivan. No, I shouldn't—I should follow my orde—but Roderich is—but—but—

Tears were flooding her eyes, blurring her sight. She gritted her teeth and her grip on her phone grew tighter. Bringing both hands to her mouth to muffle her sobs, her cheeks were moistened by the stream of tears falling from her eyes. She cried quietly, whimpering and shaking, breath fogging the surface of her phone, her grip never faltering.

She cried herself to sleep.

Roderich found her early the next morning slumped against the wall, with dried tear stains streaking her red cheeks. He kneeled before her, eyebrows knitting together. "Oh. Poor thing…" Reluctantly, he reached over and hooked his hands under her legs and between her back, lifted her up and carried her to the bed. Pulling the covers of her sleeping form, he then found himself sitting next to the bed and staring, worried.

* * *

><p>"Put your chest out. Draw it all the back to you cheek, that's it." Roderich put his hand to Dominik's shoulder. The boy's arms were trembling from the strength he was using to keep the arrow back. Roderich put his hand under Dominik's outstretched arm, adjusting it slightly. "Spread your feet more. Too much, too much. There, there! Perfect."<p>

"I won't hit the target."

"You don't have to. It's okay to miss."

Elizabeta stood behind them, arms crossed, staring at the duo with interest. Archery was a strong point of hers, despite only starting three years prior and on her own, without Ivan's supervision, and the way she did was far from the way Roderich did it. It intrigued her.

"Both eyes open, and relax. Focus, breath."

"Brother, I _can't_," was murmured pathetically.

"Just try," Roderich encouraged. "Look straight down the arrow. You can let go when you're ready."

Dominik did so immediately. The thin-shafted arrow didn't rip through the air the way Roderich's always did, the way he'd hoped it would. It only flew straight forward above the makeshift target before spiraling toward the grass. Dominik sighed, arms dropping to his sides. "I missed."

"Yes, but more aim was flawless. The wind ruined it." Roderich patted his shoulder. The boy's watery eyes looked up at him. "Now, don't cry. Go fetch it."

Nodding, he went. Elizabeta pulled an arrow from Roderich's quiver. A thick-shafted arrow with a smoothly crafted arrow head. She ran her thumb over the white fletching, before looking up at Roderich. "You know, _his_ arrow is sturdy enough. The shaft isn't thick enough to hit the target; it's too light."

Roderich turned and gingerly took the arrow from her. "I know."

"And?"

"There's no sense in succeeding on the first try. Where's the lesson? The—the—" He moved his hand in a circular motion, trying to find the correct word, shoving the arrow back into the quiver. "—you _know_."

Elizabeta gave an odd look. "But he knows he _can't_. Why prove him right?"

"I've already spoiled him. I can't make him think he'll win every time he tries." He lowered his voice and leaned in as Dominik came scampering back. "In a week, I'll replace his arrows with sturdier ones and he'll start to think he's getting better because he's _practicing_."

She didn't know. She'd hit some part of the target on her first try and didn't spoil herself. Of course, she was already well into puberty and not a child. Maybe he was onto something.

She watched Roderich meet Dominik halfway and encourage him to try again, despite the boy's sad eyes. "You'll get better, I promise. I didn't hit on the first try; look at me now." He seemed to lighten up a bit and Elizabeta smiled. The pair returned to the shooting spot and tried to again. He missed but wasn't as sore about it, and went fetch it again.

"Practice makes perfect," Roderich murmured, gazing at the dull sky. "I'm sure you've heard that before?"

"Of course." She nodded.

"I want him to see that."

"I thought you said no secr—"

"Secrets that'll hurt somebody. Like sleeping with your best friend's girlfriend. Like fooling someone into thinking something is right, because they don't know better."

She swallowed thickly. "Like Ivan."

Roderich looked at her, surprised. She was surprised he was surprised. "He _does_ that?"

Elizabeta nodded. "I realized it when I was thirteen. He told us—" She was running a hand through the hair that framed her pretty face. "—told us that affection made us weak. Romance, lust, love of any kind…was for the weak."

"Not true."

"I _know_. But still." Elizabeta sighed, scratching her head. "Love is unconditional. I love them all—my friends. Ivan's sisters, little Peter, Antonio, Arthur, Francis, Gilbert, all of them." At that point Roderich was lost in the myriad of names. He didn't know any and she wasn't surprised at that. The world was not such a small place in reality. He was looking blankly at her, may as well change the subject. "I lost a friend once. A few years back."

He was back again, blinking curiously, eyes focusing. "Did you?"

She nodded.

"Did he die?"

"_No_." She couldn't stand the thought but changed her answer. "Well, I don't know. He left. Just left."

"His name?"

Elizabeta was growing uncomfortable. "Toris. Laurinitis."

She looked at him. Roderich was surprised again, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly open. Then he shut his mouth, perfect amethyst irises flicking to one side, then the other. "What?" she asked. His lips drew into a thin line and he backed himself up, looking unsure. "Roderich."

"Where _is_ that boy?" Roderich's hand found the back of his neck. He turned and called for Dominik, making to go after him.

"Wait, Roderich, what's the matter with you?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Elizabeta caught his arm and didn't let go. He turned, startled by her boldness. "You're acting like you know something. Tell me."

"I-I don't—" Her steely gaze shut him up. His lips drew in again until he sighed in resignation. "Okay. Okay." The grip on his arm loosened and he brought it to his chest. "Right. So, if you would, please turn around and look over yonder. At them."

Elizabeta turned and looked to where he was pointing, to the cluster of his comrades who were conversing or sparring on the field, laughter and chattering filling the cold air. "Where," she muttered. Over yonder, was what she was expecting to hear but he instructed to search for a mousy-haired boy. It didn't make sense; she'd met everyone and the way she had missed someone was if they were avoiding her. And they were.

A few moments later, she'd found what he was describing, the back of a mousy-haired boy. At first, she could not identify the owner of the head. But the boy turned, grinning to his blond companion. "_Toris_." She made to go and approach but Roderich pulled her back by her shoulder. Elizabeta looked at him, brows furrowing, eyes almost angry.

"Sorry for that." He quickly pulled his arm away. "And sorry for not telling you immediately. But you _really_ shouldn't go over there. Trust me."

"Why not?"

"Toris doesn't like to talk about that—about what happened back then. So please, if you're going to talk to him, just—_never_ bring it up."

"But I want to know."

"If you want to know, go ask Mika," Roderich said firmly, ready to end the conversation, "because she holds all the records, she's the one everyone confesses to, go ask _her_." Dominik returned, breathing uneasy and shallow, and Roderich went to lift him up and compliment him on a job well done. Dominik hugged him around his neck, smiling widely. Then Roderich came back and leaned in to whisper into Elizabeta's ear that Mika was most likely in her office.

She nodded, pulled Roderich in to plant a kiss to Dominik's forehead, and then hugged the older Austrian before scrambling off to the headquarters building.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Right, so a lot of changes in this chapter, those of you who remember the initial version. I figured it wasn't right for Ivan to force Peter to kill, like in the first version, especially since I like him a lot more now and decided to have him feel **_**something**_** for someone like Peter. So now he's a spy! Also, they all know Elizabeta's secret earlier in this, so I can save some stupidity. I was dawdling a lot when writing the first version, and I'm glad I'm getting things on track!**

**Please review!**


End file.
